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The • • 

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the library op 

CONGRESS 
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TRANSLATED 

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Holland Library No. 2. March, 1805. 



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1287 BROADWAY, NEW YORK. 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


A Story of the Modern Girl. 


In Preparation : 


A Hero of Our Time. 

BY 

M. U LERMONTOFF, 

Translated from the Russian, by 

ROBERT APPLETON. 


Author of “Mrs. Harry St. John,” “Violet,” etc. 


MARCEL THE VO ST. 

ft 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS 


Translated by Arthur Hornblow. 


NEW YORK. 

HOLLAND PUBLISHING COMPANY, 

1287 BROADWAY. 


w \ 




Copyright, 1895, by the Holland Publishing Company, All rights 

reserved. 


THE HOLLAND LIBRARY. 

Entered at the post office at New York, N. Y., as second class matter. 
Issued bi-monthly. Subscription price, $2.00 per year. 


486555 

JUL 2 0 1942 


A FOREWORD. 


Two criticisms made upon this study while it was appear- 
ing in a Parisian magazine, interested me keenly. 

It is urged that under the name of “ demi-virgins ” I have 
portrayed a type of the modern young woman and have left 
the inference that this type stands for the young girl of the 
period. I hardly need warn the reader against so rash a gen- 
eralization. 

This book is not a study of society at large, but of that rich, 
idle, pleasure-seeking society of Paris — a society with vague 
limits, curious instincts and cosmopolitan characteristics. It 
is led by no moral or religious ideas ; it neither approves nor 
disapproves of anything in the name of a principle, but mere- 
ly in the name of a convention or of current opinion. 

It is in this restricted world that one meets the type of the 
demi-virgin otherwise than exceptionally. But it would be 
absurd to generalize from this that all the young girls of Pa- 
risian society belong to this category or that the type is a 
special characteristic of Paris. It is to be met with far more 
frequently in London than in our own country, more frequent- 
ly in New York and American cities generally than in Lon- 
don. Both the institution of flirting and the word flirt, are of 
Anglo-Saxon origin. In no country are there fewer demi- 
virgins than in France. 


Again it is said : admitting that this contamination exists, 
why analyze and exploit it ? Is there not more danger in 
telling the truth about it than in keeping it secret ? 

Assuredly, no. It is an evil, which, if unchecked, is des- 
tined to pervade the whole of society. For more and more 
the manners and morals of the rich, idle and pleasure-seek- 
ing classes, come to be the manners and morals of the whole 
of society, so that the most humble of the middle class take 
their model from it. 

Moreover nothing is more contagious than the type of girl 
portrayed in this book, the fin-de-siecle young woman. Ac- 
customed to luxury and freedom, she has become initiated 
into every phase of life. Daring, risque, and fascinating, she 
competes with the young married woman, and as a rival out- 
runs her through the insolent advantage of her freshness and 
her novelty. She is, in short, the petted and spoiled child of 
a degenerate age. 

This is why it is necessary to say to mothers : if you have 
not the courage, with your growing daughters, to live ex- 
clusively in order to bring them up intact of mind and heart, 
— that is to say, to begin over again for their sakes the se- 
cluded life of a young girl, at least keep them away from your 
vicious society life. 

The Christian marriage is one of the institutions of our 
country. Between its conceptions and the type of the demi- 
virgin there is a deep irreconcilable antagonism. Our modern 
education of the young girl tends more and more to develop 
this demi-virgin type. We must either change the education 
of our girls or the Christian marriage will perish. 

MARCEL PREVOST. 


Paris, November, 1894. 


The Demi-Virgins 


THE FIRST PART. 


I. 


Maud was seated at a desk in the small draw- 
ing room, penning a telegram. Madame de 
Bouvre, her mother, stretched out close by on a 
reclining chair, in the awkward pose of persons 
troubled with rheumatism, took up her English 
novel and began to read. 

The desk, too low for Maud’s height, was one of 
those pieces of furniture in dark mahogany, odd 
looking and commodious, which London manu- 
factures, and Paris is beginning to adopt. In- 
deed, the entire furnishings of the small drawing 
room and of the other drawing rooms, much lar- 
ger, which could be seen through the folding 


8 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


doors devoid of curtains, bore the stamp of Eng- 
lish taste. There were chairs and settees of cu- 
rious design, laquered white or pale green, and 
extraordinarily large arm-chairs which, instead of 
the usual wealth of soft pillows of feather and 
silk, were provided with plain and flat cushions 
in leather. The hangings and portieres, also a 
pale green with large orange-colored flowers, fell 
in graceful folds. A soft moquette carpet of a 
slightly yellow tint, covered the floors. 

The apartment itself, like the furniture, bore 
evidence of a decided taste for everything mod- 
ern, and a wish on the part of its designer to 
utilize every modern improvement. It was the 
second story of one of those enormous houses 
which have been built recently in the neighbor- 
hood of the Arc de Triomphe. This particular 
house was on the Avenue Kleber, close to the 
Place de l’Etoile. It had fifteen windows looking 
on the Avenue, and contained three apartments, 
one of which was occupied by Madame de Kouvre 
and her two daughters, Maud and Jacqueline. 
Each tenant lived perfectly independent of the 
others, and if one of them wished to give a ball 
there was an immense movable hall, occupying 
the whole of the inside court of the house, which 
could be raised by hydraulic pressure to the level 
of each floor and so double the size of each apart- 
ment. 

Maud de Eouvre did not seem out of place in 
this setting, the modern elegance of which she, 
herself, had planned and carried out. In spite of 
her mature and well developed figure, she ap- 
peared rather slender, owing to the length of her 
waist, and her slim shoulders. Her small, well- 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


6 


shaped head, was covered with a wealth of brown 
hair, an indescribable brown, with an underlying 
vein of gold, like an unpolished nugget under 
the rough surface of which the yellow metal 
shines through. This luxurious hair, arranged in 
Japanese fashion, disclosed a narrow forehead, 
underlined by perfectly straight eyebrows like 
strokes of a pencil. Her eyes, moderately large, 
were of an incomparable blue. The nose, too, 
w T as charming, thin at the top and dilated at the 
nostrils, with that slight elevation at the tip which 
imparts to the face an air of proud self will. The 
mouth rather broke the general harmony of the 
features. It was small and round and full of 
marvelous teeth, and with lips on which a phy- 
siognomist, making a study of the signs of de- 
generation, might note certain hardly perceptible 
vertical lines, and, doubtless, have caught some 
connection between this characteristic and the 
tiny ears which were situated low and were al- 
most without lobes. 

Who knows ? Perhaps it is these inharmonious 
lines, which break the monotony of conventional 
female beauty, that render such women so dan- 
gerously enchanting to the opposite sex. As 
Maud sat there, bending over her writing desk, 
one could not help being attracted to her, while 
one’s glance might have glided with indifference 
over features and a figure more classic. 

The dress, of a light grey material, simply 
made, the Jong hands devoid of rings, the fresh- 
ness of the skin and an indescribable indecision 
in the curves of her neck and bust, — all indicated 
that she was still a young girl barely out of her 
teens. Yet her ripe, exquisitely molded form, 


10 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


and the look in her eyes as she raised them every 
now and then to bite absent-mindedly at her pen, 
would have made one hesitate before addressing 
her as Miss or Madame. 

There could have been no greater contrast than 
that between Maud and the invalid mother 
stretched out upon her reclining chair, her face 
drawn with pain, and now heedless of her 
Tauchnitz which had fallen from her hands on to 
the floor. All the miniatures of her youth bore 
testimony that Alvira Hernandez had been a 
strikingly beautiful woman at the time when 
Francois de Rouvre, a French fortune hunter 
disembarked at Cuba in 1868, courted her and 
married her. But no trace of her beauty now re- 
mained. Her body was distorted by rheumatism, 
and her face was wrinkled, bloated, and dis- 
colored. Covered with a plentitude of powder, 
she looked exactly the duenna which almost all 
Spanish women become after their fortieth year. 
Yet, deprived of all charm of face or figure, Mad- 
ame de Rouvre still possessed all the frivolity 
and carelessness of youth. She had a passion for 
outward show, for extravagance of dress and a 
profusion of glittering jewelry. 

Maud finished her telegram, signed and dated 
it, — fourth of February, 1893, — then, slightly 
moistening her finger, she passed it over the en- 
velope, and wrote the address. 

“To whom are you writing?” asked her 
mother. 

“ To Aaron,” returned Maud, with an indiffer- 
ent drawl. “He is at his office every afternoon. 
I am sending the telegram to the Comptoir 
Catholique.” 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


11 


Madame de Rouvre turned round on lier cliair, 
a twinge of her malady distorting her face. 

“And what do you want from that man? ” she 
asked querulously. 

“A box for the first night at the Opera to- 
morrow. I have told him to bring it this evening. 
I received him so badly last Tuesday that he dare 
not come any more. My little telegram will 
mend everything and we shall see him at five 
o’clock as smiling as ever.” 

Maud held the telegram in her fingers, toying 
with it daintily, and then continued : 

“His full title — ‘Monsieur the Director of the 
Comptoir Catliolique,’ — ah, that will sound well 
when the Chantel’s are here.” 

Madame de Rouvre exclaimed : 

“I don’t think we need show off to the Chan- 
ters such a man as he is — the false Alsatian! 
False Catholic, too, a creature who exploits the 
cures, the sisters, and all the religious communi- 
ties ! And he permits himself to say everywhere 
that he is in love with you, as if a Mademoiselle 
de Rouvre were for a Frankfort usurer and a 
married man at that ! Madame de Chantel will 
find better people than that here the first time 
she comes. Our Tuesdays are well attended ! ” 

Maud allowed her mother to prattle on, with a 
smile that was half sad and half ironical. 

“Yes, always well attended,” she replied, dryly. 
“Only too many nondescripts, — attaches of the 
cabinet like Lestrange, secretaries of deputies 
like Julien, the sifting of papa’s club friends and 
the acquaintances we have made at watering 
places! Such people won’t make much impres- 
sion on aristocrats like Maxim© and his mother.” 


12 THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 

“Then there is Madame TJcelli.” 

“Oh! that woman! ” with a shrug of disdain. 

“"What do you mean by ‘that woman?’ The 
friend of the Duchess de la Spezzia! ” 

“Precisely,” interrupted the young girl. 
“There’s too much talk about that already. If 
she is to meet the Chantel’s here, no one must 
speak of the Duchess de la Spezzia.” 

“Well,” asked Mme. de Rouvre after a moments 
silence. “Do you think the two le Tessiers will 
come ? ” 

“Paul is not certain. There is an important 
discussion to-day in the Senate, on the privilege 
of the Bank of France, and he is going to speak. 
But Hector is sure to come every Tuesday.” 

“Well, I suppose if Maxime and his mother 
meet here a senator, a future minister like Paul, a 
sort of princess like Mme. Ucelli— ” 

“ And a director of a great Catholic financial 
institution like Aaron,” interjected Maud, with an 
ironical smile. 

“ And an accomplished gentleman, a prominent 
sportsman like Hector — ” 

“ They should have every reason to be satisfied,” 
said the young girl. “Pray Heaven they may! ” 

“Do you believe they see as good people every 
day?” demanded Madame de Rouvre, irritably. 
“I should like to be present at one of their recep- 
tions at their country house at Yezeris! ” 

Maud rose and pressed the electric button near 
the chimney place. 

“ Oh,” she said, “ I do not know who the Chan- 
ters receive at Yezeris. Yery unimportant and 
ridiculous people, I presume. But,” she added de- 
cisively, “I am convinced that the people they 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


13 


know belong to the best families in the country. 
The Chanters themselves belong to the true no- 
bility.” 

“Bah,” replied Madame de Rouvre, “nobody 
could be more simple than Mme. Chantel. Do 
you remember that summer at St. Amand, how 
well we got along? Our afternoons playing be- 
zique — our walks side by side in the fields ?” 

“That’s true,” said Maud pensively. “We got 
along famously.” 

She wondered, without finding an explanation, 
what invisible threads had allied so easily, in the 
solitude of the little northern village, a giddy old 
woman like her mother, with a rigid, provincial 
noblewoman, half Catholic and more puritan, like 
the mother of Maxime de Chantel. 

“Both are pious,” she thought, “each has the 
same sickness, with different symptoms, and each 
believes the other sicker than herself. But — 
everything connected with that family seems 
mysterious. Why was Maxime attracted to 
me?” 

Standing against the chimney place she con- 
jured up the memory of those four days that 
Maxime de Chantel had spent with his mother at 
St. Amand, and during which she had felt him 
fall in love with her, attach himself to her in 
spite of himself and almost without her having 
done anything to provoke it. Suddenly he had 
departed and taken refuge in the loneliness of 
Yezeris, where he managed a large agricultural 
enterprise. For months they had news of him 
only through the letters from Mme. Chantel to 
Mme. de Rouvre. Maud thought, “ Never mind — 
he loves me. He hasn’t forgotten me.” And now 


14 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


he was coming back to Paris with his mother who 
sought a consultation with a noted physician. 

“Did Mademoiselle ring?” 

It was Betty the maid who had come in answer 
to the bell. 

“Here, Betty,” said Maud quickly, “send this 
to a telegraph office. You may light the fire in 
the large drawing room, but first shut off the 
steam. It is insufferably hot here. ” 

“Very well, mademoiselle.” 

“ At half past four you will go yourself to fetch 
Jacqueline from her class. You will beg her to 
dress herself at once and come and help me pour 
the tea in the drawing room.” 

“Yes, Mademoiselle. Is that all?” 

“Yes, — oh, no, wait. About three o’clock a 
young lady will call. She will ask for me. Let 
her come directly here, without passing through 
the large drawing room.” 

“ Even if some one is here ? ” 

“Even if some one is here. But there will be 
no one at that hour.” 

“ Whom do you expect ? ” asked Mme. de Rouvre 
sitting up with an effort. 

“You don’t know her. It’s one of my old 
school friends whom I haven’t seen since I left 
the convent.” 

“ What does she want ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” said Maud rather impatiently. 
“I only know she wants to see me.” 

“ And what’s her name ? ” 

“Duroy — Etiennette Duroy.” 

Madame de Rouvre reflected a moment. “ Eti- 
ennette Duroy — no. I do not remember her.” 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


15 


“ You never remember anything,” retorted 
Maud. 

The maid, who had remained on the threshold 
of the small drawing r&om, asked: “ Has Mademoi- 
selle any further use for me ? ” 

“ No,” replied Maud. 

“Wait, my girl,” exclaimed Mme. de Kouvre, 
managing to stand on her feet. “ You can help 
me get to my room.” 

She went out through the large drawing room 
leaning heavily upon the maid’s arm. 

When her mother had gone Maud sat down 
again at the desk. Absent-mindedly, she picked 
up a pen, a souvenir of some watering place. She 
seemed agitated and her fingers were trembling 
so that the fragile stem broke in her grasp. She 
slowly tossed the pieces into the grate as Betty 
entered again. 

“ Has the lady come ? ” she asked, controlling 
herself. 

“ No, Mademoiselle. It’s Monsieur Julien.” 

Maud struck the marble of the chimney piebe 
sharply. “ Break that habit of yours, Betty, of 
saying ‘ M. Julien ’ when you mean M. de Suber- 
ceaux. I won’t have it.” Then more calmly, 
“ Why doesn’t M. de Suberceaux come in ? ” 

“ J oseph opened the door and he didn’t know 
where Mademoiselle was. So M. Jul — M. de Sub- 
erceaux went to Mademoiselle’s room.” Betty 
spoke quite simply and Maud did not seem sur- 
prised in the least. 

“Well, ask M. Suberceaux to come here.” 

Left alone, she glanced at herself in the glass, 
not from coquetry but from the instinct of the so- 
ciety woman who is going for the first time that 


16 


THE DEMI- VIRGIN S. 


day to be seen by a man, be he a brother or an 
old friend. 

A moment later, Julien de Suberceaux appeared 
on the threshold of the small drawing room. He 
was a man hardly thirty years old, and dressed in 
the extreme of fashion. He was tall and athletic, 
yet rather slight, with stern features and a pale 
face. He had a small moustache, and beautiful 
brown hair which he wore rather long. The ex- 
pression of his face, with its severe lines, the 
straight chin, fine lips, and well chiselled nose 
might have seemed harsh and almost forbidding, 
had it not been for the clearness of his beautiful 
blue eyes — eyes of tenderness and indecision — the 
eyes of a woman. 

Maud turned and looked at him with a strange 
light in her eyes, the glance of an amorous wom- 
an who beholds once more the man she loves. 

With a charming air, he took the hand which 
she tendered him and kissed it ceremoniously. 

“ Good afternoon, Mademoiselle — are you well?” 

Then with a quick glance, he looked about the 
room and into the apartment adjoining. 

“No — there’s nobody there,” said Maud in a 
whisper. 

Then he drew her to him, threw his arms 
around her and held her in a long clinging em- 
brace, kissing her on her lips, her neck, her eyes, 
her brow, her hair and cheeks hot and passion- 
ate kisses which she returned with equal passion. 
When they drew apart, both were trembling. 

Maud, her pale cheeks rather red, turned to the 
glass over the fire place and with a few dexterous 
touches of her fingers put her hair and dress in 
order. Suberceaux, who had dropped into a chair 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


17 


near the desk, watched her with hungry eyes. 

Standing in front of him, she leaned with her 
hands on the back of a chair. 

“ Maud, my darling,” murmured the young man 
only tell me you — ” 

She looked at him straight in the eyes, and then 
in a low and distinct voice although hardly mov- 
ing her lips, she said : 

“I love you.” 

There was nothing left in Maud’s appearance 
now to suggest the young girl of a few moments 
ago. She looked the full-blown woman, with that 
hot flame in her eyes, and that indescribable van- 
quished air by which young women who have 
known love once, betray themselves. 

Julien said softly : 

“How I have longed to hear those words! I 
have spent many a weary hour since our last 
meeting at the Reversiers.” 

She sat down on the chair, her eyes much calm- 
er, and she asked tauntingly, “ Ah, cards again ? ” 

“ Oh no, not that,” Julien replied. “ Look, I 
made this last night.” 

He plunged his hand into the inside pocket of 
his long frock coat, and drew forth a crumpled 
mass of bank notes. 

“Mh! Rue Royale ? ” asked Maud. 

“No, at the ‘ Deux-Mondes ’ — against Aaron.” 

“ Ah ! Aaron ! I’m glad of that,” cried Maud. 
“ But all the same, it was very wrong of you. You 
promised me — ” 

Suberceaux made a gesture of indifference. 

“ Bah, what does it matter ? I shall never be 
worse off than I am to-day. And I must live, 
2 


18 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


mustn’t I ? Besides, it keeps a man from think- 
ing.” 

She took his hand, smiling tenderly “ What is 
it you want to forget, — me ? ” 

“Ah, yes, I would,” replied the young man, 
drawing away his hand brusquely. But he added 
quickly : 

“Pardon me. I am nervous to-night, and mel- 
ancholy. You cause me so much pain.” 

Maud interrogated him with her eyes ; he con- 
tinued: 

“ You torture me — you are no longer mine. You 
do not care for me — I feel it ! ” 

Without speaking, the young girl indicated 
with a look the spot by the fire-place where he 
had just embraced her so passionately and the 
recollection made Julien tremble again. 

“ Always reproaches — nothing but reproaches,” 
she cried, then adding in a low tone, “ could I 
dare go farther than I do ? ” 

Suberceaux, subdued and quieted, lowered his 
head. 

“ It is so long,” he stammered — “ so long since 
you came.” 

He had said these last words in a very low tone 
as if he were afraid of being heard even by her to 
whom he spoke. Maud rose brusquely, her eyes 
darkened, her brow gathered in a frown. 

Julien was already beside her, imploring. 

“ Oh, don’t be angry, Maud, I know that it vex- 
es you when I speak of it, but I can’t help it. The 
memory of that day is all my life. I swear to you 
that if I were told : ‘ She will come back to your 
room — you will keep her an hour — alone — with 
yourself like that last time and afterwards they’ll 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


19 


kill you, they’ll shoot you directly afterwards, I 
would accept and I would bless those who would 
kill me — I love you so ! ” 

She stood leaning against the mantel, allowing 
him to speak and he continued, passionately : 

“The last time especially — the last time that 
you came — the third of January — oh, how beauti- 
ful you were, none can compare with you. After 
you had gone, the perfume of your hair, of your 
dress lingered like a fragrant memory. Will you 
never come again ? ” 

“ How unjust you are ! Don’t I receive you 
here as much as you like ? Are we disturbed ? I 
permit you even in my room. My mother has 
come to find it quite natural, and the servants are 
trained.” 

“ Ah,” said Suberceaux ; “ it’s quite different. 
You say that the servants are trained. Well, I 
am not a coward, am I ? I don’t care for pistol 
balls or sword thrusts, but I feel afraid when I 
come here and see the sly faces of Joseph and 
Betty. You say your mother’s eyes are bandaged 
and that she never sees anything. That may be. 
But still I feel embarrassed when I say ‘ good- 
day ’ to her. I enter the house more tranquilly 
when I know she is not here. Besides — Jacque- 
line-” 

“ Oh, Jacqueline is a child.” 

“A child who sees everything — and who knows 
how to make us understand that she sees every- 
thing.” 

Maud leaned her face close to his and offered 
him her mouth, which he touched lightly with his 
lips. 

“ I love you,” she said, as she drew away. “That 


20 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


should be sufficient. Do you expect everything 
will go exactly as you wish it when you are in 
love with a girl ? Don’t you think that you can 
undergo a little inconvenience in order to have 
me?” 

Julien murmured sadly: “I have never had 
you.” 

“0 Julien, that is ungrateful of you. You know 
that I have given you all that I dare. ” 

He drew the girl to him, convulsively. “ Only 
tell me” he supplicated “when you will come again.” 

“ Where ? ” 

“Rue de la Baume, to my room.” 

She made a gesture of impatience. “ Again ? I 
have told you that I am watched, spied upon by 
that hateful Ucelli woman, who made love to you. 
She hates me because she knows you love me. I’m 
satisfied she has me followed. You laugh ? I am 
not a girl to be frightened at nothing. You ought 
to know that. The last time that I went to the 
Rue de la Baume she knew it.” 

“I will change my apartment,” urged Julien. 

“ No, believe me, don’t ask the impossible. Trust 
in me for our seeing each other as often as we can. 
But don’t torment me.” 

She added, significantly : “ I must watch my 
actions more than ever — now.” 

Julien, surprised and suspicious, questioned 
her : “More than ever ? Why ? You have some- 
thing on hand? ” 

“Perhaps,” she replied, lightly. 

He became very pale and remained silent a mo- 
ment. Then, affecting to be calm, he said : 

“ Can you tell me — what it is ? ” 

“ Yes,” replied Maud slowly, her eyes fixed on 


tfHE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


21 


liis. “ I will tell you everything if you will be — 
what I have the right to demand that you should 
be.” 

Julien made a sign that he was listening. Both, 
without apparent effort, had resumed the tone and 
attitude of two society people perfectly indifferent 
to each other. 

“Well,” said Maud, “last July — you see its a 
long time ago — we met at St. Amand, a provincial 
lady, Mme. de Chantel, who was undergoing the 
cure. She was accompanied by her daughter 
Jeanne, a pretty but insignificant girl of fifteen, 
and by her son Maxime ” — 

Stopping suddenly, she exclaimed : “ I believe 

some one rang.” 

“Yes,” said Suberceaux, “I heard the bell. 
They’re opening the door. Visitors already? ” 

“ No, only a little girl — why you must know her,” 
Maud added, opening her eyes and watching him 
closely — “the little Duroy girl — Etiennette Duroy.” 

Suberceaux started. “The daughter of Ma- 
thilde Duroy ! ” 

“Yes,” assented Maud, with a half-sinister 
smile, “ and the sister of Suzanne Duroy, your old 
flame.” 

“ Hardly,” said Suberceaux, curtly. 

“ No ? ” Maud’s eyebrows lifted with naive 
incredulity. “ They say that you first introduced 
her into the half-world.” 

“ Ah,” returned Suberceaux, thoughtfully. 
“ Can one ever tell with that kind of girl ? I 
don’t believe anyone is the first ! ” 

“ All the same,” he added, “ if you’ll allow me, 
I prefer not to meet the sister. Why the deuce 
do you let her come here ? ” 


22 


THE DEMl-VIRGINS. 


“ She was at the convent with me, and they say 
she’s now living very quietly with her mother. 
Besides, I don’t know what she wants. We were 
always good friends, and it will please me to see 
her again.” 

Joseph’s sly face appeared at the drawing room 
door. 

“ Mademoiselle, it’s the young lady.” 

“ Then I depart,” said Suberceaux. 

“ Go out through the large drawing room. 
We’ll see you to-night, won’t we? Come about 
half-past five. Mamma will come down. Bring 
Mile. Duroy in here through the gallery, Joseph.” 

And accompanying the pensive Suberceaux to 
the door of the large drawing room, Maud said : 

“ Come. He will be here. I want you to 
come.” 

In a lower tone, after he had crossed the thresh- 
old, she said again, through the half-open door 
“ I love you.” 


II. 


As Maud turned, Etiennette Duroy stood on tlie 
threshold of the small drawing room, a petite 
blonde with big gray eyes, good features, golden 
hair, and a plump, gracefully rounded figure. 

“ Good afternoon, mademoiselle,” she said, 
rather timidly, on seeing Maud’s stylish appear- 
ance. “ I — .” 

“Why, do you think we’re utter strangers?” 
cried Maud, giving her an affectionate hug. 

Little Etiennette’s cheeks glowed with satisfac- 
tion at this cordial reception, as she returned the 
embrace warmly. “ It’s very nice of you to speak 
like that,” she said. “ I hesitated about coming. 
I was afraid of being badly received.” 

“ For goodness sake, why ? ” asked Maud, mak- 
ing her friend sit down beside her. 

“ Because,” Etiennette replied, with some hesita- 
tion, “ one’s school friends are so quickly forgot- 
ten. It’s almost four years since we saw each 
other last. Besides,” she added, lowering her 
voice, “ I supposed that, knowing how I am situ- 
ated — ” 

Maud smiled and said : “ Don’t you think that 
I knew it when you were at the convent ? ” 

23 


24 


TfTE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


“ You — knew it ? ” echoed Etiennette, in pained 
surprise. “ Wlio told you ? ” 

“ I heard it from Paul Le Tessier, who was 
made a senator last year. He used to be very 
friendly with the deputy of the Aude, M. — 
what’s his name ? ” 

“ M. Asquin ? ” inquired Etiennette, and, as 
Maud nodded, she added quietly : “ He was my 
father. We lost him two years ago.” 

Maud raised her eyebrows in surprise. “ I did 
not know he was your father. The Le Tessiers 
and M. de Suberceaux often spoke of meeting him 
at your mother’s house.” 

Etiennette’s cheeks flamed in spite of herself 
as she answered : “ M. de Suberceaux, you know, 
was papa’s secretary. He — ” 

She stopped short, as if afraid of saying too 
much. Noticing her embarassment, Maud took 
her hand and said, kindly: “Come, ’Tiennette, 
tell me everything. I think I know already all 
there is to know, even about Julien and your sis- 
ter Suzanne.” 

“ Oh, I’m not surprised at that,” replied Etien- 
nette, sadly. “ All Paris has talked enough about 
them both. My sister is very headstrong.” After 
a pause she continued : “ Julien didn’t behave 
very well. My father was very fond of him, and 
mamma received him like one of the family. But 
since his quarrel with Suzanne he hasn’t been near 
the house. He knows mamma is ill, so I think he 
is very ungrateful.” 

“Don’t speak badly of him, ’Tiennette,” said 
Maud, in a serious tone that made the young girl 
look up. “M. Julien is one of our friends.” 

With one of those affectionate, open-hearted 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


25 


Outbursts that made her such a universal favorite, 
Etiennette threw her arms round her friend’s 
neck and, almost on her knees, cried : “ Oh, for- 
give me. I didn’t know he was a friend of yours. 
See, I vex you the very first time that we see each 
other. Are you angry with me ? ” 

“ Of course not,” replied Maud, kissing her fore- 
head. “ Now, tell me why you came, I can help 
you in some way? ” 

Etiennette flushed as she replied : “ Yes, I have 
a great favor to ask of you, otherwise I wouldn’t 
have dared to come. I’ve been snubbed so often 
lately on account of my mother and Suzanne. But 
you’re kind and I’m grateful.” Then, sitting up 
and laying her gloved hand on Maud’s arm, she 
continued, confidentially : “ You know, dear, I’m 
not very old, but I’ve seen enough of life to be 
certain that a woman cannot be happy unless she 
is completely independent. You can also under- 
stand that, situated as I am, I have been paid a 
good deal of attention — ” 

“ A pretty girl like you ought to expect that,” 
interrupted Maud. “ You look perfectly divine.” 

Etiennette showed her gratitude by a winning 
smile, which disclosed her beautifully white teeth ; 
but it was evident that she was indifferent to the 
compliment. 

“ Among others who have paid me very marked , 
attention,” she went on, in her serious way, “ is 
someone you know well.” 

“ Hector Le Tessier?” inquired Maud with 
some interest. 

“ No, his brother Paul, the senator. He used 
to come a great deal to the house when papa was 
alive, and he has been fond of me ever since I was 


26 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


a little girl. Now I’m grown up, and he’s still 
fond of me — in a different way.” 

“Well, why not marry him,” said Maud. 

“That’s impossible,” returned Etiennette, with 
a sad little smile. “ Paul Le Tessier couldn’t be 
the brother-in-law of Suzanne Duroy.” 

“ Or the son-in-law of Mathilde Duroy,” thought 
Maud. “She’s right.” 

“Poor darling! ” she said, stroking her friend’s 
golden tresses. 

“ I might be his mistress,” continued Etiennette 
in the same serious tone. “ I like him better than 
all the others, but— Oh, I can’t bring myself to 
do that ! I don’t know if it is because I was born 
so, or whether all the life I see around me has 
made me want to be a good woman, but I feel I 
couldn’t be happy otherwise. Mind you,” she 
added, reddening, as if ashamed of the sentiments 
she was expressing, “I condemn no one and judge 
no one. I’m not even at all sure of being able to 
keep in the right road myself. It’s not very easy, 
I assure you, surrounded as I am. But I’m going 
to try to live independently of everyone and to 
earn my own living honestly.” 

She stopped for a moment, searching on Maud’s 
face wistfully for a look of approbation. 

“ Go on,” said the latter. “ I am very much in- 
terested in what you tell me.” 

“Well,” pursued Etiennette, “You know I went 
through the Conservatoire after leaving the Con- 
vent. I carried off several honors in singing and 
two first prizes for the piano. But giving piano 
lessons brings in so little and it’s too hard work, 
so I learned to play the guitar. I can play pretty 
well — as well as any one else, I think. My voice 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


27 


isn’t very strong, but it’s correct and agreeable, 
and I’ve collected a repertoire of old songs. They 
are all the rage now. I think they would go.” 

“ Of course they’d go,” cried Maud, taken im- 
mediately by the artistic side of the enterprise. 
“ A pretty girl like you and with your hair. — You 
could wear fancy costumes, too. You would be a 
great success. Every body would want you.” 

Etiennette laughed, with shy pleasure. “Its 
not so easy as all that,” she said. “ One must 
have friends, people in society who will bring you 
out and introduce you. The Le Tessiers were 
talking of doing something, and Paul wanted to 
organize a garden party at Chamblais, their 
country place. But I thought it wouldn’t look 
very nice for me to be chaperoned by two young 
bachelors ! ” 

“Dear me!’’ exclaimed Maud laughing, “how 
very respectable you are ! ” 

“One must be entirely so cr not at all, it seems 
to me,” Etiennette replied gravely, and then 
brightening, she added: “So I thought of you. 
You are rich and have a number of fashionable 
friends, and ” 

Maud interrupted her quickly. “You’re mis- 
taken, dear. We are not rich and we don’t know 
many of the first circles. We know certain so- 
called society people, but they are not what I 
should like them to be. When we came back to 
France in ’84 we had a little money left, and paf>a, 
who belonged to a good family himself, might 
have got into the best society, but he preferred to 
squander his time and money on cards and women 
and we are still suffering the consequences, even 


28 


THE DEMI -VIRGINS. 


after mamma’s divorce and his death. The people 
we know are a nondescript lot of idle club men, 
ladies of foreign and mysterious origin, persons 
we have met at different watering places. When 
I marry, I mean to have it very different. Oh ! 
how tired I am of the kind of people that come 
here ! If I marry it will be only to a man who 
moves in the best of society, — a man wlio has an 
old name and title, large landed property, and a 
family and relations without reproach. But 
meanwhile I shall be very glad to do all I can, 
and to introduce you to the best people I know. 
They are rich and fond of amusement; they may 
be useful to you.” 

Etiennette’s big eyes brimmed with pleasure, 
and, clasping her friend’s hands, she exclaimed: 
“ Oh, thank you ! How good you are ! ” 

<c We’ll organize something,” Maud went on. 
“ We can give a concert here. Leave it to me. 
I’ll think it over. I remember you had a good 
voice when we were at the Convent.” 

Etiennette said, hesitatingly, “Would you like 
to hear me ? Are there any old songs here ? ” she 
asked, going over to the piano. She found a 
quaint old ballad, and as Maud’s fingers "wandered 
over the keys, sketching out the plaintive melody, 
she sang in a simple, touching way: 

“Le cher anneau d’argent que vous m’avez donne 
Garde en son cercle e’troit vos promesses encloses. 

Her voice was extremely j)leasing, and clear 
and pure as a crystal glass touched by a violin 
bow. 

As she finished the second verse there came a 
burst of applause from behind, and a strong femi- 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


29 


nine voice, witli an Italian accent, cried : ‘ Brava, 
brava — capital ! ” 

“ It's Madame Ucelli,” said Maud, turning her 
head. 

A stout woman with bleached hair, black eyes, 
and the wreck of what was once a classic face, ad - 
vanced towards Maud and kissed her effusively on 
both cheeks. Accompanying Madame Ucelli was 
a young woman, tall, thin and distressingly plain. 

“ Mile. Cecile Ambre,” said Madame Ucelli, in- 
troducing. “ She’s a good friend of the duchess 
and of mine, too, aren’t you, sciascioni mia ? ” she 
added, patting the young girl’s cheeks. “ She is 
on a short visit to Paris and is staying with me, 
so I took the liberty of bringing her with me. 
She sings eccentric songs deliciously. At the 
Spezzia she has made the duchess and her cortina 
perfectly happy.” 

Maud held out her hand. “ I am pleased to see 
you, mademoiselle.” 

“ You seem to have discovered an artiste too, 
dear,” continued Mme. Ucelli. “Yes,” she added, 
turning to Etiennette, whose nose was buried in 
her muff, “you have a magnificent voice. E 
quanto e carina ! Hasn’t she, Cecile ? And she 
looks like one of Sienna’s angioli” 

“ Yes, madame is very pretty and sings admir- 
ably,” replied Mile . Ambre, rather coldly. 

Maud introduced her friend. 

“ Are you a professional ? ” inquired Madame, 
Ucelli, inquisitively. 

“Not yet,” replied Etiennette, with a smile. 

“ We’ll bring her out, won’t we ? ” said Maud, 
appealing to Madame Ucelli. “ She accompanies 
herself delightfully on the guitar.” 


30 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


“ Oil ! Cara ! I’m so fond of the guitar ! ” ex- 
claimed Madame Ucelli, in a mixture of French 
and Italian. “ We must get up a big concert at 
once. I’ll sing, and you, too, Cecile. When shall 
it be ? ” 

“We were thinking it over,” replied Maud, smil- 
ing at Madame Ucelli’s eagerness. 40 Say, in 
March or April. We can have it in the large 
hall, you know.” 

“ Precisely,” said Madame Ucelli. Then, turn- 
ing to Mile. Cecile, she explained ; “ A magnifi- 
cent hall, dear, almost as large as La Scala, which 
can be moved up and down to any floor. Isn’t 
this a splendid apartment? Just look, Cecile. 
E come e ben accommodato ! — Gosto inglese — ” 

The two women began talking in Italian, Ma- 
dame Ucelli showing her friend the hangings and 
the furniture. Maud, in a whisper, said to Etien- 
nette : “ I can’t bear her and she hates me on ac- 
count of Julien, who was compelled one day to be 
positively rude to her. She detests me and pays 
my servants to spy upon me. More than once I’ve 
surprised her whispering to Joseph and Betty. 
Never mind, if she’ll really sing at your concert 
she’ll draw people. You’ve taken her fancy be- 
cause you’re pretty. Don’t see her too often or 
else you’ll soon fall out with her.” 

“ You’re a love,” cried Etiennette, embracing 
Maud affectionately. “You’ve made me very 
happy. How I wish I could do something for 
you.” 

The two visitors had passed into the large draw- 
ing room. 

“ Come and see me often,” said Maud, “that 
will be the best service you can render me. I 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


31 


often feel tlie want of a friend I can confide in. 
Besides,” she added, after a moment’s thought, 
“ maybe there is something you could do for me. 
Could you let me come to your house — lend me 
one of your rooms from time to time ? ” 

“ You can have an entire apartment if you wish,” 
replied Etiennette, eagerly. “Mamma is ill and 
never leaves her reclining chair. She has rheu- 
matism of the heart, you know. I am really mis- 
tress of the house.” 

“ The truth is,” continued Maud, trying to over- 
come her hesitation, “ I want to receive someone 
there — someone you know.” 

“Julien?” asked the younger, gravely, drawing 
on her glove. 

“Do you mind? Would it compromise you?” 
Maud asked, quickly. 

“Nothing could compromise me,” replied Etien- 
nette, with some bitterness. “ Do what you like. 
The house belongs to you.” 

“Thanks, dear. You can count on me. You’ll 
see that I’m a good friend.” 

With their arms enlaced around each other’s 
waists the two girls joined Madame Ucelli and 
Mile. Ambre. 

“ You must excuse me,” said Maud, apologetically 
to the ladies. “Mile. Duroy is going and we 
were saying good-bye.”, 

“ So soon ? ” asked Madame Ucelli, taking 
Etiennette’s hand. “ I hope you’ll come and see 
me, 21 Rue de Lisbonne. I’m at home every 
Thursday evening. We have a little music.” 

Etiennette thanked her and bowed. 

“A propos,” added Madame Ucelli, “ I suppose 
I shall see you at the opera to-morrow evening ? ’’ 


32 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


“I hardly think so,” replied Etiennette. “I 
never have any tickets for the opera.” 

“ What,” exclaimed Madame Ucelli, “an artist 
of your value and beauty unable to attend the 
opera because you’ve no tickets ? Che peccato ! 
Come in my box. Mile. Ambre will be with me 
and the Count Rustoli. And who else ? Perhaps 
M. Luc Lestrange, a friend of Mile. Maud’s. ” 

At that instant the lackey threw open the large 
folding doors and a jauntily dressed, light com* 
plexioned man of about thirty-five entered. 

“I heard my name,” he said advancing, smiling. 
“ Who was talking of me ? ” 

While he was shaking hands with every one, 
Madame Ucelli exclaimed : “ Ah ! ^Signore I/uccal 

That is really funny. W T e were just talking of 
you and you appeared ” 

Etiennette bowed and withdrew, escorted to the 
door by Maud. 

A moment later, the doors re-opened and an 
elderly lady entered, accompanied by two young 
girls dressed exactly alike. The girls were pretty 
but they had a pale and unhealthy look. Made- 
line w r as the livelier of the two and full of spirits, 
while Martha was shy and reticent and blushed 
violently whenever she was addressed. 

Maud introduced them to Lestrange; the Made- 
moiselles Reversier. “But,” she added, “I fancy 
you know each other.” 

“ Doesn’t M. Lestrange know every young girl 
in Paris? ” asked Madame Ucelli, laughing. 

“No,” replied Lestrange with a grimace, add- 
ing in an undertone to Madame Ucelli, “I only 
know certain specialties.” 

“ How’s your dear mother?” inquired Madame 


THE DEMI -VIRGINS. 


33 


de Reversier of Maud, seating herself near the 
fire. 

“Not very well,” returned Maud, languidly. 

“ And Jacqueline ? ” 

“ She went to her literature class, but she’ll be 
here soon. It’s already half past four.” 

“ Eh ? ” broke in Madame Ucelli, “ What is this 
literature class, anyway ? Is it that in the rue St. 
Honore, where a young man of thirty lectures to 
young ladies on risque subjects ? ” 

“Yeung ladies and young gentlemen both,” cor- 
rected Maud. “The class is for both sexes.” 

“Indeed !” said Lestrange. “Then I must at- 
tend.” 

“No. They wouldn’t let you in,” laughed 
Madame Ucelli. “Your reputation’s too bad.” 

“ Who’s going to the Opera to-morrow to see 
‘ The Valkyries,’ ” asked Maud to change the con- 
versation. 

“Tickets were offered to us,” said Madame de 
Reversier. “ But I don’t think ‘ The Valkyries ’ is 
a nice opera for my girls to see.” 

Amid the volley of protests that followed, Les- 
trange turned to Madeline and said : “Well, mam- 
zelle, as long as you are familiar with the book, I 
don’t understand why you can’t see the piece.” 

“ Why, because,” Madeline replied with a grave 
air, “ it’s given in a public place, and other people 
would see that we heard. You wouldn’t dare to 
repeat aloud all the foolish things you say in pri- 
vate to my sister, to me or to Jacqueline, would 
you ? ” she asked archly. Then, seeing Lestrange’s 
gaze fixed upon her she added, “Why do you 
look at me like that? ” 

3 


34 


THE DEMI -VIRGINS. 


“ I’m looking at your pretty lips,” said Lestrange 
in a low tone, “and I’m thinking of far more 
foolish things than any I ever told you.” 

The girl gave a quick glance about her, and 
then looking up into Lestrange’s face she replied : 
“ Don’t tell me what they are now. There are too 
few people here and mamma’s listening. She 
mistrusts you.” 

The lackey entered, carrying a small table with 
the samovar, cups and cakes. Behind him came 
Jacqueline de Kouvre, warmly welcomed by every 
one. 

Jacqueline was still a young girl, with fiery red 
hair, and stout, as unlike Maud as two sisters can 
be. She was the very image of her mother, her 
skin soft and white and her eyes, half way between 
pale green and grey, were half concealed by eye- 
lids that seemed heavy with the languor of a vo- 
luptuary. Her figure was mature as a woman’s 
and contrasted strangely with her short dresses, 
which revealed her stout and well shaped limbs. 
She was an extraordinary and soul disturbing 
child, outwardly innocent as a flower, but gifted 
to make men’s minds haunt strange paths. 

When she had seated herself between Luc Les- 
trange and Madame de Reversier, the latter said 
to her smiling : “We were speaking just now of 
your class, Jacqueline. What was the subject 
taken up by your professor to-day ? ” 

Jacqueline lowered her eyes and replied in a 
comically innocent tone : “ Love in marriage, 
Madame.” 

“That’s a capital subject,” said Madame de Re- 
versier. “ What did he say about it ? ” 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


35 


‘‘If you like,” said Jacqueline eagerly, “I’ll give 
you a second edition of his lecture.” 

She was a capital little mimic, and, standing 
behind a chair, she struck a professional air, and 
began : 

“ Congugal love, ladies and gentlemen, is com- 
posed of two elements as closely allied as are oxy- 
gen and hydrogen in water. These elements are 
called affection and — (here’s where the professor 
pauses for greater effect) — and sensuality. You 
all know what affection is— paternal affection, 
filial affection — (etcetra, etcetra, which is not in- 
teresting and which I’ll skip). We come now ladies 
and gentlemen, to sensuality — ” 

“Jacqueline,” interrupted Maud sharply, “don’t 
forget where you are.’’ 

“ I’m sent to the lectures and to profit by them,” 
answered Jacqueline with a saucy tilt of her head. 

“Sensuality, ladies and gentlemen, is not so 
easy to define especially before such an audience. 
Let it suffice to say that it is devotedness to the 
gratification of the bodily appetites or to put it 
more poetically it is the attraction that the eyes 
have for everything beautiful in the human form. 
At that moment ” added Jacqueline, “ someone in 
the class called out ‘what about the blind ? ’ The 
professor pretended not to hear, and Juliette 
Avrezac, who was sitting next to me, whispered in 
my ear, ‘Their sense of feeling is so acute.”’ 

Everyone laughed including the little Rever- 
sier girls, who seemed to have forgotten the aus- 
tere principles aired by their mother a few 
moments befoTe. Madame Ucelli drew Jacque- 
line to her and kissed her, exclaiming : 

“ E un fiore—pero unjiore ! ” 


- 36 


THE DEM I -VIRGINS. 


But Maud was visibly vexed and she said to her 
sister, “ Come, Jacqueline, that is enough foolish- 
ness for to-day. You’d do better if you poured 
the tea. Madeline and Martha will help you.” 

The doors opened and Maud turned, her face 
wreathed in smiles. 

“ Ah ! ” she cried, “ here they are — both of 
them — how good of you ! ” 

The new visitors who were so warmly wel- 
comed were two striking men, one quite young, 
the other over forty. 

Holding out her hand, Madame Ucelli echoed 
Maud’s words, “ Both of them ! On a Senate day, 
too. Ah, Senator Le Tessier, you would never 
neglect a session to call upon me. Peccato ! 
Maud must be an enchantress ! ” 

“We fully expected to find you here, Madame,” 
replied Paul Le Tessier. “ In fact, it is quite by 
accident that I am free this afternoon. One of 
our colleagues died last night and as the Govern- 
ment was not ready for my interpellation, the sit- 
ting was suspended.” 

He spoke with grave courtesy and in a vigor- 
ous, manly voice, his clear grey eyes fixed upon 
his interlocutor. He was a tall man with a fine, 
athletic figure and a thick, bushy beard, his en- 
tire appearance giving one an impression of sol- 
idity. 

His brother much resembled him, though he 
wore no beard. He was much younger and less 
grave and in his brown eyes was a look more ironi- 
cal and more sceptical. 

‘‘ As to Mr. Hector,” said Madame de Keversier, 

“ he’s always to be seen at Madame de Bouvre’s 
Tuesdays. ” 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


37 


“Yes,” interrupted Jacqueline. “He likes 
young girls and lie knows where to find bright 
ones.” 

“ Some are too bright,” replied Hector, shaking 
his finger at Jacqueline and drawing near her. 

Lestrange had taken the little Reversier girls 
off into a corner and they were laughing with a 
little nervous laugh at something he w T as telling 
them. Madame Ucelli rose. 

“Oh, don’t go,” said Maud, “Mamma will be 
down soon.” 

But as she was glad to have Madame Ucelli go 
before the arrival of the Chantels, she did not at- 
tempt to detain her. 

The circle around the chimney place drew closer 
after the two women had gone. Hector took 
Maud aside and, speaking with the easy familiar- 
ity of long acquaintance, asked : “ Why is this 
special convocation for to-day ? ” 

“We are expecting the first visit of some peo- 
ple with whom I hope to become very friendly. 
I wanted you to decorate our drawing room, that’s 
all.” 

“ Awfully flattered ! And who are these new 
visitors ? ” 

Maud smiled at his inquisitiveness. He per- 
sisted: 

“A husband? ” 

She did not reply to his question, but, after a 
long pause, she said in a warm tone : 

“ Are you a friend, Hector ? ” 

The young man was touched by the seriousness 
of her speech. 

“ Why, of course I am, my dear child,” he said, 


38 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


■with sincerity. “ It seems to me we have known 
each other long enough for that.” 

She gave him a grateful look and murmured : 

“ I may want you to help me soon — ” 

A burst of laughter from the chimney place in- 
terrupted them. Jacqueline was again the cause. 

“ Oh, I assure you,” she was saying, vivaciously? 
“he doesn’t treat all his patients alike. He 
douches old ladies who call him * M. le docteur 
Krauss ’ in a melancholy kind of way, turning his 
head away so that the water falls haphazard. He 
jokes with young married women, especially if they 
are pretty, and frightens them so with the douche 
that he makes them scream. But he showers 
young girls in a respectful, caressing manner, 
scarcely touching you and never making a re- 
mark. He talks of music, literature, and art — 
while one is entirely nude in front of him. It’s 
immensely funny — ’ 

The company laughed. Jacqueline stopped 
short and raised her hand to command silence. 

“Hush. I heard the bell.” 

Before the door opened she was back at the tea 
table, serious and dignified as a schoolgirl under 
the eye of her mistress. 

The flunkey threw open the doors and an- 
nounced, pompously, as he had been instructed : 

“Madame la Vicomtesse de Chantel, Mile, de 
Chantel, M. Maxime de Chantel.” 

Everyone bowed ceremoniously. Jacqueline 
whispered in Martha’s ear : 

“Don’t they look provincial? Just look at 
them ! ” 

In point of fact the contrast between the new- 
comers and the well-dressed men and women in 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


39 


this modern drawing room was striking. The 
three Chantels were dressed in black, in respect, 
doubtless, to one of those innumerable cousins 
who are always throwing provincial families into 
mourning, and their badly made clothes made the 
women look insignificant and Maxime old-fash- 
ioned. 

“ They look distinguished all the same,” re- 
marked Martha de Eeversier to Jacqueline. 

The young girl was right. In spite of the pro- 
vincial cut and ill fit of their clothes the newcom- 
ers bore the stamp of genuine nobility. Mme. de 
Chantel was a thin little woman with a pale face 
and regular features, on which years of illness 
had left an impression of suffering. Her abun- 
dant jet black hair was just beginning to turn 
gray, but her dark eyes had a kind look in them, 
and there was an air of innate refinement about 
her that is only met with in the true aristocracy. 
Jeanne de Chantel was taller than her mother, 
more graceful and less emaciated, and she had the 
same wealth of dark wavy hair. Maxime, in his 
provincial frock coat and ancestral looking trous- 
ers and turned-down collar, his pensive features 
and ardent eyes, looked like an officer of the pro- 
vinces. 

“ Go and tell mamma they’ve come,” said Maud, 
in a whisper, to Jacqueline. “ Tell her to wear 
her black grenadine and to put on a corset.” 

“ All right. I’ll lace her myself if necessary,” 
replied the girl, running off. 

An awkward silence had fallen over the com- 
pany since the arrival of the Chantels. Maud 
seated herself near Madame de Chantel, and the 
two women exchanged a few conventional compli- 


40 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


ments. Jeanne, seated by her mother’s side, did 
not stir nor raise her eyes from the floor. Maxime 
sat facing Maud, between Madame de Reversier 
and Hector Le Tessier. He was very pale and 
kept biting at his moustache. He tried to look 
elsewhere, to examine the pictures and statues, 
but each time his eyes wandere.d back to Maud, 
whose hand he had just held in his own, and who 
now seemed unconscious of his very existence. 
Then he allowed his mind to wander back to the 
days when he first met her, and he wondered how, 
in the loneliness of the little mountain village, he 
had permitted her to become the mistress of his 
heart. 

Hector Le Tessier, meantime, sat watching 
Maxime, and he guessed intuitively what was 
passing in the young man’s mind. He was a 
Parisian of long experience and was thoroughly 
familiar with the inside workings of the class of 
society he sometimes frequented. He suspected 
the nature of the intrigue which was being car- 
ried on in this drawing room around the chimney 
place and the samovar, and he calculated in his 
mind the chances of its developing into a comedy 
or a drama. “Behind a mask of luxury,” he thought, 
“ the de Rouvres are penniless. Maud is tired of 
the socioty she moves in and the people that sur- 
round her, and is resolved to get into a better set 
by making a good marriage. The provincial 
Romeo is head over heels in love and ready to 
take the hook. But what will become of Suber- 
ceaux, I wonder. He is in love with her ; she 
with him. What a capital subject for a play! 
Happily it doesn’t concern me,” and he shrugged 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


41 


his shoulders as he thought of the promise he 
had made Maud. 

Maxime was now completely engrossed in his 
contemplation of Maud, who did not even glance 
in his direction. 

“It’s strange,” thought Hector, “I seem to 
know his face. ” 

Madame de Rouvre entered. She was dressed 
in black, and the color made her seem younger 
and almost good looking. She went straight to 
Madame de Chantel, who had risen. The two 
women embraced each other and then sat down 
side by side to sympathize with each other’s ail- 
ments. 

Hector approached Maud: 

“ What did you say their name is ? ” he asked. 
“ I didn’t catch it.” 

“ Chantel. Yicomtesse de Chantel.” 

“Ah, I thought so,” said Hector. “I knew 
Maxime de Chantel several years ago.” 

“ Really ? ” said Maud quickly. “ Where was 
that ? ” 

“ In the regiment eight years ago. He was sub- 
lieutenant at Chalons when I was doing my volun- 
tariat in the ranks. Shall I remind him of the 
fact?” 

Maud reflected a moment. 

“You haven’t forgotten your promise?” she 
asked. 

“ No — and if I can help you in any way, com- 
mand me.” 

“ You can help me,” replied Maud, a strange 
light in her eyes. “ Tame him for me. He’s a 
savage, you know.” 

“ I fancy that at the present moment he’d glad- 


42 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


ly give his old trooper fifteen days in the military 
prison,” replied Hector repressing a smile. Just 
look at him.” 

His face dark with anger, Maxime stood a little 
distance away, watching their confidential chat. 

"I’ll calm him,” said Hector, and profiting by 
the commotion caused by the entrance of the 
painter Valbelle — a tall, athletic looking man with 
a fresh colored complexion and gray hair, he 
joined Maxime. 

“I think I have had the pleasure of serving 
under your orders, M. de Chantel,” he said. “ My 
name is Hector Le Tessier.” 

The slight irony underlying the apparent respect 
of Hector’s polite little speech escaped Maxime’s 
notice. His face relaxed and brightened as he 
grasped Hector’s hand. 

“ I’m delighted to meet you,” he said warmly. 
“ I remember perfectly well. It was at Chalons 
in ’84.” 

“ ’83,” corrected Hector. 

“ ’83 ?” echoed Maxime thoughtfully. Then he 
added : “ You were from Sevres, if I remember 
rightly.” 

“Yes.” said Hector. “I’m a native of Parthe- 
nay. I see,” he continued, “ that you have an ex- 
cellent memory like all good soldiers.” 

“ I was very fond of the service,” replied Max- 
ime with a shade of sadness in his voice. 

Paul Le Tessier approached, and Madame de 
Chantel and Madame de Rouvre were surprised to 
find that the two men had become friendly so soon. 

“It’s extraordinary that they should meet by 
accident after ten years,” declared Madame de 
Chantel. 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


43 


“ Still, there’s nothing* very romantic about 
chance, after all,” observed Paul Le Tessier. “M. 
de Chantel held his commission three years and 
during that time at least two thousand recruits 
must have come under his notice. He must have 
met more than one since.” 

“ You’re a disagreeable statistician,” said Mad- 
ame de Rouvre to Paul. “ You’re always quoting 
figures and giving proofs that what happens was 
destined to happen. I think it is a most remark- 
able meeting and proves that these two gentlemen 
ought to become good friends.” 

“I accept the augury,” declared Hector, “ and 
if M. de Chantel stays any length of time in Paris 
I trust he will not hesitate to call upon two old 
Parisians like my brother and myself for any ser- 
vice he may need. And meantime,” he said turn- 
ing to Maxime and holding out his hand, “ Will 
you do us the pleasure of dining with us to- 
morrow ? ” 

Maxime shook his hand warmly and the two 
men continued to converse amicably. Other visi- 
tors had meantime arrived. Henri Espiens, a 
fashionable novelist with long hair; Madame 
Avrezac and her daughter Juliette, the latter a tall 
and graceful brunette, and Dora Calvell, a Cuban 
girl and a cousin of Maud’s. 

Maud drew Jacqueline aside and whispered: 
“Everything’s going capitally, isn’t it? ” 

“ Yes,” replied Jacqueline. Then, with preco- 
cious sagacity, she added, “ Only I wouldn’t let 
the Le Tessiers and the Chantel’s become too 
friendly.” 

“Oh, I am sure of Hector,” said Maud. 

“ And of Paul, too ? ” 


44 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


“ I haven’t spoken to him yet,” replied the el- 
der, “ but I know how to win him over,” and she 
beckoned Paul to come over to where they were. 

Rather quizzingly, Maud said : “ My prettiest 
caller left just before you came, senator.” 

Paul smiled. “I know,” he replied, “I sent 
her here.” 

“ Really,” exclaimed Maud, surprised. “The 
sly little minx ! She never told me,” 

“ She hardly liked to come,” continued Paul. 
“But I assured her that you were a good and 
loyal friend — for those who don’t stand in your 
way,” he added with a malicious smile. 

“ I have promised to bring her out,” said Maud, 
not noticing the last remark. “ And to have all 
Paris here to witness her debut. She’s a sweet 
little thing, and I think you are a lucky man.” 

“ Oh,” laughed Paul, “ I am only a father to 
her, as they say in the operettas.” 

“ In return,” said Maud, lowering her voice, “ I 
want you to form an alliance with me in an un- 
dertaking which is hardly planned as yet, but the 
success of which means everything to me.” 

Paul glanced in the direction of Maxime and 
asked, meaningly : “ Does it concern him ?” 

“Yes,” she answered. “Hector is going to 
help me ; will you ?” 

“ All the more willingly,” replied Paul, “ as I 
think our provincial soldier is by no means to be 
pitied. Ah,” he exclaimed, looking up, “ here 
comes Aaron with Julien.” 

Suberceaux, fashionably attired and sedate as 
usual, entered the room, followed by a fat and 
oily looking little man. In spite of the rich qual- 
ity of his clothes, the rare flower at his button- 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS 


45 


hole, and the lustre of his patent-leather shoes, 
there was nothing distinguished about the new- 
comer, who had the appearance of a prosperous 
usurer. They introduced him pompously : 

“ Baron Aaron, director of the Comptoir Catho- 
lique.” 

The fat little man bowed to right and left, shook 
hands, and as he advanced seemed to be rolling 
along the carpet like a ball. 

Going up to Maud he put his hand into his 
pocket and, presenting her with an envelope, he 
stammered : “ Here’s your box for the opera to- 
morrow.” 

“Thank you,” said Maud, indifferently. And 
she placed the envelope on the side table without 
opening it. 

The visitors had dispersed in the two drawing 
rooms and sat talking in separate groups. Es- 
piens had taken Madame Avrezac into Maud’s 
boudoir, where no one could see them. Every 
few minutes, however, a stifled laugh was heard 
in their direction, followed immediately by a 
chord struck on the piano. Juliette Avrezac, 
alone in a corner with Suberceaux, seemed to be 
reproaching him in a low tone. Around the tea 
table Valbelle and Lestrange were teasing Dora 
Cal veil, to the great joy of Jacqueline, Martha, and 
Madeline. 

The young Cuban girl was laughing at a propo- 
sition made by the painter. “Really, M. Val- 
belle,” she exclaimed, “I couldn’t pose for your 
picture as an Indian princess.” 

“ The costume would become you beautifully,” 
Lestrange observed. 


46 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS, 


“ How do you know ? ” asked Madeline, laugh- 
ing. 

“There would be no costume at all,” put in 
Jacqueline. 

u Oh, yes, there would,” said Lestrange, twirl- 
ing his moustache. “ The princess wears fig 
leaves, and as many as she likes.” 

“I’d pose for you if I were tall enough,” Jac- 
queline said, decisively. 

Dora reflected a moment and added : 

“ Mamma wouldn’t like it.” 

“You needn’t tell your mother,” urged Les- 
trange. “ Your governess could accompany you 
to the studio.” 

Dora remained silent a moment. Her reply 
was greeted with a peal of laughter. 

“Very well, I’ll come,” she said; “but you 
must promise that my face won’t be seen.” 

Maxime had remained where Hector had left 
him, listening, in spite of himself, to such of the 
conversation as reached his ears. Startled and 
amazed, he thought, “ Am I dreaming, or is this a 
new society with new manners and a new lan- 
guage? All this talk certainly seems little better 
than what one hears in a cafe. Is this the kind 
of people that Maud associates with ? Does she 
listen to such talk as this ? If she does — ” 

Maud had not yet spoken to Maxime, but, glanc- 
ing in his direction, she noticed the irritation on 
his face and guessed the cause. She went to him 
at once. 

“ What are you thinking of so seriously ? ” she 
said, softly, laying her hand upon his arm. 

He started as if surprised in some guilty action, 


THE DEM I- VIRGINS. 


47 


and permitted her to lead him to a distant corner 
of the room. 

“ When one has been brought up in the coun- 
try/’ he said, gravely, “ one should never come to 
the city.” He spoke bitterly, as if he compared 
the simplicity of his own speech and dress with 
the brilliancy of such men as Lestrange, Suber- 
ceaux, and the Le Tessiers. 

“ Do you intend to return to Vezeris, then? ” 
asked Maud, slowly. 

“Yes,” he replied with his eyes fixed on the car- 
pet. “ I accompanied my mother to Paris because 
she couldn’t travel alone. She will stay here as 
long as the doctor orders her. I can’t be of any 
further use to her, so I shall go back to Vezeris. 
Paris is too big a place for me. Even when I’m 
in it, as now, I seem to be a stranger. My native 
hills and valleys are far nearer my heart.” 

“ Ah ? ” said Maud lowering her eyes. 

Encouragecl by the sound of his own voice, 
Maxime continued : 

“That lonely country life has made me what I 
am — unto its own image. I have the same thoughts 
and the same feelings as my shepherds who live 
and die in the midst of their flocks on the sides 
of the green hills. My senses are slow to awaken 
and are so deep seated that when once stirred they 
cannot be quieted for months. The feelings of 
you Parisians are aroused easily and do not last. 
Your speech is as quick and brief as your feelings. 
We country people express ourselves slowly be- 
cause we cannot interpret quickly the feelings 
that stir our whole being so profoundly. I don’t 
know why I tell you all this. It probably bores 
you.” 


48 


THE DEMI -VIRGINS. 


“ Do you think it ? ” she asked in a low tone, 
and she added, pointing to the distant groups : 
“ Nothing they are saying could interest me so 
much.” 

“ It’s good of you to say so,” he said, passion- 
ately. “ See, I am not even master enough of my- 
self to conceal my emotion. Anything that recalls 
past happiness always upsets me. And your pres- 
ence here to-night, after so many months, brings 
back the few days we spent together at Saint 
Amand.” 

Maud murmured low, “I have not forgotten 
them either.” 

Both remained silent, then, on raising her eyes, 
Maud was frightened at the expression in the 
young man’s face. 

“ Enough romance for to-day,” she thought to 
herself, and, anticipating the passionate words 
which she felt were ready to burst from Maxime’s 
lips, she said loud enough to be heard : 

“ I want you to come in our box at the Opera 
to-morrow night, will you ? Jeanne will come too. 
By the by,” she said looking all over the room, 
“ where is she? There she is,” pointing to a cor- 
ner, “and actually talking.” 

Jeanne de Chan tel, in fact, was carrying on a 
timid conversation with Hector Le Tessier. Maud’s 
remark made the young girl rise at once and, 
blushing scarlet, she came to take refuge with her 
brother. Everyone laughed. 

“How did you tame her?” asked Maxime of 
Hector, running his fingers through his sister’s 
brown curls. 

“ I spoke to her of you,” Hector replied. 

The young girl, in fact, had aroused Hector’s 


THE DEM I-VIRGINS. 


49 


curiosity and he had led her on to tell him all 
about her infancy and the way in which she had 
been brought up by her mother, with Maxime as 
her sole companion. She had also told him how 
she loved country life and how the city frightened 
and bewildered her. 

“ Dear little sister,” murmured Maxime, press- 
ing his lips to the young girl’s forehead. 

“ Come,” said Maud rather impatiently. “What 
shall we decide about to-morrow night ? Mme. de 
Chantel and your sister will come in our box and 
you will accompany them ? ” 

“ I dine with M. Le Tessier,” said Maxime, dis- 
pleased at the manner in which his tete-a-tete with 
Maud had been interrupted. 

“That doesn’t matter,” replied Maud quickly. 
“You can join us after dinner and bring them 
with you. Is it agreed ? ” 

She gave him a tender look and he bowed his 
head. Suberceaux pretended not to see them and 
seemed to be talking with great animation to Paul 
Le Tessier. 

Mme. de Chantel rose. Aaron kissed Maud’s 
hand. It was nearly seven o’clock. Everybody 
said good-bye. 

Suberceaux drew near to Maud. Glancing over 
her shoulder to see if Maxime was watching, she 
took the young man’s hand and murmured in a 
low tone : 

“You have been good to-night.” 

“ Is that he ? ” he asked disdainfully, pointing 
to Maxime’s back. 

“Yes.” 

4 


60 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


“ He looks rather provincial,” Suberceaux 
sneered. 

“ He’s a gentleman,” retorted Maud,” “ and 
worth far more — ” 

“ Than I ? ” 

“ Than both of us,” said Maud earnestly. Then 
she added : “ Now go. Don’t appear to stay after 
the others have gone. To-morrow ! ” 


III. 


“ No, my dear Chantel,” said Hector Le Tessier 
as he and his brother and Maxime sat sipping 
their demi-tasse at the Restaurant Joseph ; “ The 
people you met yesterday are by no means excep- 
tional and the young girls whom you saw behav- 
ing and talking in such an extraordinary manner 
are common enough types of modern Parisian so- 
ciety. You will find the same kind of girls every- 
where, at the theatre, in ballrooms, at garden 
parties and at the watering places, and you will 
also find that they represent all the steps in the 
social ladder from the grisette to the heiress of a 
proud aristocratic family. Mme. de Reversier 
comes of excellent stock; her husband was a Pre- 
fect and well-to-do. M. Avrezac was a chemical 
manufacturer at Yesinet and left his widow a pile 
of money, and of course you know that the Rouvre 
family is very well connected. I assure you,” he 
continued, “ that Jacqueline as 'well as all the other 
girls, has been well brought up according to mod- 
ern ideas.” Then seeing a look of incredulity on 
Maxime’s face, he added, “ The people themselves 
are respectable enough. What shocked you ye*- 

51 


52 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


terday is simply the result of the manner in which 
young girls are educated nowadays.” 

Paul Le Tessier took a cigar and lit it carefully: 
“ Hector has started on his hobby,” he said. “ He 
is inexhaustible on the subject of young girls.” 

Maxime, who had spoken very little during the 
dinner, remarked quietly; “ I think it’s very inter- 
esting.” 

Hector Le Tessier’s words seemed almost in an- 
swer to a question which had arisen in his own 
mind. He had left the de Rouvre’s apartment 
the previous evening unsettled and under a spell. 
Maud was as beautiful and as much his ideal as 
when he had last seen her, but the talk and be- 
havior of the others had disgusted and disconcer- 
ted him. They were Maud’s friends and compan- 
ions and she heard what they said; perhaps she 
talked as they did. And at the thought, anger 
arose in his heart against this Paris which had 
polluted the immaculate soul of the woman of his 
choice. Yet it was possible that Maud herself, 
amid the impure atmosphere around her, had re • 
mained good and pure, ignorant of evil and a 
member of this corrupt society without compre- 
hending its iniquity, like his own sister Jeanne. 
She had not been shocked by what she had heard 
in the de Rouvre’s drawing room. He thought, 
“ Oh, if one could but know the truth ! ” and he lis- 
tened to Hector eagerly, anxious to learn every- 
thing, and yet afraid of hearing too much. 

But Hector was careful not to speak of Maud. 
He touched on generalities only and as he was a 
facile after dinner talker, he had no difficulty in 
keeping Maxime interested. From time to time, 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


53 


his elder brother interrupted the conversation by 
some ironical remark. 

“ During the last fifteen years/’ continued Hec- 
tor, “ the marriageable girl in Paris has changed 
almost completely in two particulars. In the first 
place she has almost completely lost her sense of 
modesty and in this respect the present day may 
well be compared to the period of the Latin de- 
cadence or to the Renaissance. Our young girls 
do not perform in public all the extravagant acts 
of indecency that were common enough in ancient 
Rome, or in the palaces of the Medicis, but they 
are as learned in the lore of love as were their 
Roman or Florentine sisters. Does any one hesi- 
tate to speak of yesterday’s scandal before them ? 
They see every play. They read every book. Be- 
sides, it’s not only in conversation or in books or 
at the theatre that they become versed in matters 
of which they should remain ignorant. There are 
in Parisian society, a number of men who take de- 
light in robbing maidens of their innocence. Such 
a man is Lestrange, whom you met yesterday. 
The girls receive their first lessons in forbidden 
subjects at their first ball and the instruction is 
carried on skilfully throughout the season. When 
summer comes, the freedom of life at the fashion- 
able watering places permits these professional 
deflorers to put the finishing touches to their 
work.” 

“You mean that he marries the girl?” said 
Maxime. 

“ No,” replied Hector. “ He never marries, and 
what makes it more remarkable is that the young 
girls know he doesn’t. And what’s more, they 
don’t seem to wish him to think seriously of them, 


54 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


for as a rule lie is a penniless adventurer like Les- 
trange or Suberceaux. The dream of the modern 
young girl is to make a rich marriage/' 

The waiter entered in obedience to Paul’s sum- 
mons and the latter called for the bill. Hector 
continued: 

“Then again, the marriageable girl has no 
dowry nowadays and this is as pernicious for 
public morals as the lack of modesty. It is a well 
established fact that girls with money, at the pres- 
ent time, are as scarce as girls with modesty. 

“ Granted that a millionaire gives his daughter 
two hundred thousand francs. That would only 
bring her in about six thousand francs a year, not 
even enough to keep a carriage. The consequence 
is that the young girl has never before been so 
entirely dependent upon man as she is to-day, and 
as she only possesses one weapon with which to 
make his conquest — that is, love — her mother al- 
ways takes good care to teach her what love 
means as quickly as possible." 

This remark raised a protest on the part of 
Maxime, but Hector continued : 

“ In my opinion the responsibility for the low- 
ered tone in the present generation of girls lies 
with their mothers. Formerly, the virgin was 
brought up in a cloister which she left only when 
she was to be married. The husband in those 
days was the first man whom she came to 
know intimately and he had a good chance of win- 
ning her love. Moreover, after having lived so 
long within the bare walls of the cloister, the 
young bride naturally thought the most modest 
apartment luxurious. This alone was a practical 
lasson in economy and plain living. Then what 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


55 


happened? A few hysterical writers declared 
that the surprise of the alcove was a disgrace to 
civilization and they cried so loud that everybody 
believed them. You see the result. Girls are no 
longer brought up in cloisters. On the contrary 
from the age of fifteen they accustom themselves 
to all the luxury which their parents took forty 
years to acquire, and they are no longer married 
in ignorance of what marriage means. In fact, 
the fin de siecle girl does not always content her- 
self with acquiring the theory of love. Sometimes 
it’s the husband who is surprised in the alcove 
and not the wife.” 

The three men sat and smoked for a time in 
silence. The waiter entered with the bill. Paul 
Le Tessier paid it and rose, saying : 

“ Let us go. It’s half-past ten and I have some 
work to do at home. You two are going to the 
Opera ? ” 

They put on their coats and went down to the 
street, where Paul’s coupe was waiting for him. 
It was a clear and frosty night and the stars were 
brilliant overhead. On the ground lay a thin 
layer of snowflakes, which glittered like diamonds 
under the flickering gas lights and electric globes. 

“If you like to get into my coupe,” said Paul, 
“ I’ll drop you at the Opera.” 

“No,” returned Hector, “ we’ll walk ; it’ll do us 
good.” 

And as the coupe drove off Hector and Max- 
ime turned in the direction of the boulevards. 
Hector had lighted a cigar. Maxime strolled 
along in a brown study, as if his thoughts were 
far away from the gay scene around him. 

“ Of what are you dreaming ? ” asked Hector. 


56 


THE i)EMI-VIRGIN'S. 


Maxime stopped short like a horse under the 
lash. The contraction of the muscles of his face, 
the fierce flame in his eyes, and the savage way in 
which he bit at his short moustache, betrayed his 
excitement. Turning to Le Tessier, he said, ab- 
ruptly : 

“ You spoke just now of the girls who frequent 
Mile, de Rouvre’s house, and even of her sister, 
in a way which I hardly liked. I have only known 
her a very short time, but I esteem her highly, 
and I should count it a favor if you would bear 
it in mind.” 

“ My dear fellow,” replied Hector, looking up at 
Maxime in surprise, “ I’m not aware that I even 
mentioned Mile, de Rouvre’s name.” 

Maxime was already sorry for his rudeness. 
“Pardon me,” he said, extending his hand, “I 
was wrong to speak to you like that. I have 
great confidence in you,” he added, taking the 
young man’s arm. “ Think how much I am out 
of place here, not knowing Paris and unfamiliar 
with your ways. I am a peasant, perhaps, but a 
peasant who can’t help thinking, and who reads a 
man’s character by his face just as one looks at 
the sky to judge of the weather. I know that 
our tastes are entirely dissimilar, yet I feel sure 
that you are worthy of being my friend. Is it 
agreed ? ” 

“ Willingly, my dear Maxime,” replied Hector, 
somewhat affected. And he thought to himself, 
“ One doesn’t often hear such sentiments as these 
between the rue Favart and the Vaudeville. ” 

The two men crossed the Chausee d’Antin, and 
as they entered the rue Meyerbeer the lights of 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


the opera house could be seen in the distance. 
Hector continued, slowly : 

“ Mile, de Rouvre is too beautiful a woman not 
to have aroused the voices of envy and calumny. 
I warn you that you’ll hear plenty of people 
speaking badly of her, but you must be patient 
and indifferent. I don’t suppose there is in Pari- 
sian society a single woman, married or unmar- 
ried, whose name has not been connected with 
some scandal. It’s hardly surprising, for it’s so 
often true, that the mistake is excusable when it’s 
false. The white, blue, and pink muslin dresses 
that you will see presently in the dress circle 
cover so few bodies that are entirely intact. 
There are so many demi-virgins among these so- 
called virgins, that the few girls who are innocent 
and pure in mind suffer for the sins of their more 
perverted sisters. In a large city like Paris it is 
almost impossible to know whether a young girl 
is virtuous or not.” 

They had reached the court in the rear of the 
Opera House. A long string of equipages with 
handsome liveries and high-spirited horses al- 
ready extended along the Rue Gluck. 

" I fancy if Maud had heard me, ” thought Hec- 
tor, with a smile, “ she’d have thanked me for 
that little speech.” 

“What kind of husbands do these “girls whom 
you call demi-virgins find ? ” Maxime asked*. 

Hector laughed and replied, with his blase air : 
“ Oh, they marry ruined barons, shady financiers, 
invalided old men — all kinds of broken-down 
wrecks, who die or disappear twelve months after 
the w T edding.” 

They were now at the doors of the Opera 


58 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


House, and from the number of men who were 
coming out it appeared that the first act was al- 
ready over. 

“ Shall we go in ? ” asked Hector. 

“ If you like,” said Maxime, and he followed his 
companion, who threaded the throng of the lob- 
bies with the air of a man who was an habitue of 
the place. 

The magnificence of the staircases and ceiling, 
the ravishing gowns worn by beautiful women, 
the scent of rare perfumes and flowers, the crowds 
of well-dressed men, the dazzling splendor of the 
electric lights, fashioned in a thousand cunning 
devices — all this presented a scene striking to the 
imagination and intoxicating to the senses. Yet 
it did not please Maxime. He felt vaguely that 
all this unwonted glitter that had come into his 
life was a menace to his peace and his happiness. 

“ A woman whom I have to seek in such a place 
as this,” he thought, “ is not the kind of a wife I 
want.” And in. his heart arose that blind and un- 
reasonable rancor which the recluse of the 
country feels toward the fashionable life of the 
metropolis, the deep seated resentment of the 
provinces, even the intelligent provinces, against 
Paris. 

“ Am I about to tie myself for life to this hol- 
low, artificial existence so foreign to my tastes 
and to the life I have always dreamed of ? ” he 
wondered. But the desire to see Maud once 
more, to speak to her, to confirm the faith he 
wished to have in her, was too strong in him to 
permit him to retreat now. And as he caught 
sight of her from the orchestra, sitting in front of 
the box between Jacqueline and Jeanne, he said 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


59 


for the first time, and with that passionate energy 
that characterized all his actions : 

“I want her ! ” 

A few minutes later, the two men entered the 
de Rouvre box. Aaron, fussy and obsequious, 
came out at the same moment, and they found no 
one in it but the two mothers and the three girls. 
Maud immediately quitted her seat, which Hector 
took, and she joined Maxime in the little ante- 
chamber. 

“Any folly is excusable for such a woman,” 
thought Hector, following her with his eyes. 
“ Happy are those who have the courage of their 
madness.” 

Dazzlingly beautiful was Maud that night. 
From her black hair tinged with gold, to her feet, 
covered with the daintiest of slippers, she looked 
every inch a queen, a woman to command the re- 
spect and homage of a multitude. Seated near 
her, on the red sofa, Maxime contemplated her 
with a jealous admiration which made him trem- 
ble. She wore an elaborate gown of pale pink 
satin trimmed with gold lace. A collar of white 
crepe around her neck half concealed the se- 
ductive curves of her shoulders and bosom, and 
under the powerful artificial light her hair shone 
like gold. Her eyes had the hue and softness of 
dark blue velvet and her usually pale face was 
like the marble of a statue. As Maxime sat con- 
templating her, with torture in his soul and jeal- 
ousy in his heart, he murmured to himself, “ Mon 
dieu ! How could any man help loving such a 
woman ! ” 

She spoke to him softly and kindly and thanked 
him for coming — he who adored her for having 


GO 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


allowed him to come ! Ah, if he could only throw 
himself at her feet and cry in the dust, “ I love 
you. I am yours. I believe in you!” 

Yet a few moments before he had suspected 
her! He had doubted her! He hated himself 
now for having harbored such a thought. 

They spoke of things which were far from their 
thoughts, of the play, of the audience, of the 
weather. Maud felt the warmth of the passion 
that was near her, and in spite of herself, she felt 
proud of this unexpected conquest, so unlike any 
other of her life. In a few words, she told him 
how she had spent her day, and, when she fin- 
ished, she asked: 

“And what have you been doing with your- 
self ? ” 

He did not tell her that, although it was far out 
of his way, he had passed under her window on 
horseback before going to the Bois. He said 
simply: 

“I took a ride before breakfast and lunched 
with my mother and Jeanne. In the afternoon, I 
made some calls.” 

He stopped short: 

“ But why should I tell you all this ? The de- 
tails of my life cannot interest you.” Then he 
added, the flame of passion again shining in his 
eyes: “Let me tell you only that all this day, all 
last night, I have only had one thought — ” 

“ There’s the prelude,” said Maud rising. She 
laid her gloved hand softly upon his arm. “ Stay 
with us. We can talk when it’s over.” 

All his life Maxime de Chantel was destined to 
remember the hour when, under the brilliant 
light of the electric globes, and all his senses 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


61 


stirred by that soul-inspiring music, he first felt 
that his life had become mysteriously and abso- 
lutely linked with that of a woman who was al- 
most a stranger to him. The auditorium was 
darkened, but there was still light enough to per- 
mit of his recognizing some of the faces he had 
met the evening before at Madame de Rouvre’s. 
There was the blond Madame Ucelli, decolletee to 
hef waist, the enigmatical Cecile Ambre and, in 
an adjoining box, were Madame de Reversier, her 
two daughters and Luc Lestrange, who was bend- 
ing over Madeline and almost touching her white 
open neck with his red beard. In the orchestra 
stalls, he noticed Julien de Suberceaux intently 
watching the de Rouvre’s box through an opera 
glass. 

The curtain rose and all eyes turned towards 
the stage. Maxime left to his own thoughts, 
pondered still on the unknown and perilous 
path upon which he was entering. But 
once more he summoned all his will and steeled 
his heart against its own misgivings. What mat- 
ter if pitfalls and precipices lay along the road, 
so long as Maud were at the journey’s end? And 
he felt at that moment that although she seemed 
interested in the opera she was really thinking of 
him, anxious to please and retain him. 

“ She shall be my wife !” he murmured fiercely. 

While Jacqueline was exchanging almost im- 
perceptible signals with one of the men in the de 
Reversier's box, Jeanne de Chantel sat quietly by 
Maud’s side. A scarlet flush overspread her 
young face from time to time with no apparent 
reason, stirred possibly at finding herself sudden- 
ly in an entirely new world, among men so differ- 


62 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


ent both in manner and dress from the men she 
had been accustomed to meet in the country; and 
maybe also because she felt in her heart, although 
she hardly dared admit it to herself, that one of 
them had paid her marked attention. For while 
Maxime and Maud were talking in the ante-cham- 
ber, Hector Le Tessier had spoken to her with the 
same interest that he had shown on the previous 
evening, and her young virginal heart throbbed 
with sensations which were entirely novel. Yet, 
in spite of the interest she felt for this brilliant 
Parisian, she was even more distressed than Max- 
ime by all she had seen and heard. To complete- 
ly reassure her conscience, she kept repeating to 
herself: “But as mamma and Maxime are with me 
it can’t be wrong.” 

Among all that well-dressed throng which sat 
listening indifferently that night to Wagner’s sub- 
lime music, these two simple souls, Maxime and 
Jeanne, were perhaps the only persons present, 
with serious thoughts in their heads and elevated 
sentiments in their hearts. The others, perverted 
and spoiled by this monstrous Paris which cor- 
rupts and eats out men’s souls, were only crea- 
tures of chance, ignorant of their own desires and 
not even knowing whether they were enjoying the 
music or whether they would prefer it to cease — 
creatures whose consciences are paralyzed and 
whose moral senses are numbed, who are weary 
both in body and soul, and whose days are as mo- 
notonous as their sleepless nights. Was Madame 
de Rouvre’s feeble brain capable of thought, 
haunted as she was by the phantoms of her suffer- 
ings and the recollection of her troubles? Were 
men like Lestrange, with their sensual faces and 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


63 


depraved minds, capable of a single good action ? 
Had tliose nervous little dolls, Jacqueline, Martha 
or Madeline de Reversier, J uliette Avrezac, Dora 
Calvell, with their false sentiments and hollow 
hearts another thought in their minds save that 
of attracting men ? Had the Ucelli woman, who 
showed on her face the traces of indescribable 
debaucheries, or the pale Cecile Ambre who, one 
hand resting on the plush covering of the box, 
held in the other the deadly morphine injector, 
which, in the darkness she would use during the 
evening, a thought above intrigue? Nor did 
Julien de Suberceaux, surprised himself at the 
jealousy which had grown up in his sceptical 
heart, betray a sign of being a jot better than the 
rest. All around the well dressed crowd was the 
same — young girls, fashionable mothers, idle club- 
men, leading the same immoral and disordered 
existence, weary of life and yet clinging despair- 
ingly to it, sensual yet blase, intelligent yet im- 
becile. 

Perhaps the best among them all were those 
who knew better and tried to be better, but who 
were overcome by their surroundings — such as 
Etiennette Duroy, whose pretty face smiled peace- 
fully behind Madame TJcelli’s shoulders, or Hector 
Le Tessier, the curious dilettante of the vices of 
other’s, who judged and condemned the society 
they lived in, sure of being able to quit it when- 
ever they chose. 

The opera was over. The women hurriedly put 
on their luxurious furs and sables, and the audi- 
ence slowly poured out through a hundred exits. 
Maxime descended the steps of the broad marble 
staircase with Maud’s bare arm resting on his. 


64 


THE DEMI* VIRGINS. 


The words which had almost escaped from his 
lips just before, “ I love you, I want you,” now 
stuck in his throat, and he could not utter a word. 
Yet how many times, in the solitude of Yezeris, 
he had dreamed of having Maud on his arm. The 
dream had come to pass, and yet it almost gave 
him pain. 

While passing on into the peristyle Mile, de 
Rouvre suddenly quitted Maxime’s arm. Julien 
de Suberceaux was just behind them, in his long 
black cape and velvet collar, and with such a 
tragic expression on his face that even Maxime, 
unaccustomed as he was to read men’s thoughts 
in their faces, suspected the cause. He stepped 
aside with an affectation of indifference, although 
devoured by jealousy. Maud turned to Suber- 
ceaux as he stood in the midst of the gay throng 
that was forcing its way into the street. Their 
eyes flashed fire as they met. 

“ Are you mad ? ” she exclaimed, in a whisper. 
“ Do you want to spoil everything ? ” 

“ Maud — ” he could only stammer. 

She magnetized him with a look. “ To-morrow,” 
she murmured, in a low tone. “ To-morrow, at 
your rooms at four o’clock ! ” 

And leaving him bewildered and cowed, she 
took Maxime’s arm again. 

“ Poor fellow,” she said, in a natural tone, with - 
out waiting to be questioned. “He is smitten 
with Madeline de Reversier, who does not care 
for him, and he is almost wild because Lestrange 
has been flirting with her all the evening. I had 
to calm him. He is such an old friend. You see,” 
she added, smiling, “that even in cynical and 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


G5 


pleasure-loving Paris people can love earnestly 
and well.” 

Maxirue, trusting now lier every word, was re- 
assured. 

To the right of the Opera House stood the long 
line of handsome equipages waiting for their 
owners. Madame de Kouvre’s carriage, one of 
those fashionable-looking turnouts, with a pair of 
dashing grays which can be hired by the month, 
drew up quickly, and Madame de Chantel and 
Jeanne accepted her invitation to see them to 
their hotel. 

Maxime started off on foot. He had lost Hec- 
tor in the crowd and did not care to look for him. 
He wished to be alone, so he could think and 
ruminate on his happiness. He walked at ran- 
dom along the streets, and had gone several miles 
before he had entirely awakened from his dream. 
On entering the hotel very late he even forgot to 
go and kiss Jeanne, as was his custom. 

All his past was swept away by the present 
tempest. And, as he threw himself into a chair 
he betrayed the state of his heart, as he exclaimed 
aloud : 

“ Ah, when a man loves a woman as I love this 
one, he ought to have known her as a child, and 
watched over her year after year, as he would a 
sister.” 

5 


IV. 


Nearly all the houses on the Boulevard Hauss- 
man, between the avenue Percier and the rue de 
Courcelles, have a rear exit intended for servants 
and tradespeople, and leading to the quiet rue de 
la Baume. The apartments fronting on the latter 
street have the advantage, rare in Paris, of over- 
looking the lovely gardens surrounding the hotel 
de Segur, the magnificent lawns of which stretch 
away to the rue de Courcelles. It is a private 
park in miniature, situated in the very heart of 
the city and maintained at a heavy outlay, full of 
rare flowers and choice plants, exotics of vegeta- 
tion and stately trees, whose abundant foliage, in 
summer, conceal from view the princely residence 
beyond. 

Julien de Suberceaux’s apartments, which he 
had occupied for the past four years, was on the 
second floor of a vast and old-fashioned house, 
which had been transformed into bachelor’s quar- 
ters. When Julien had first come to Paris from 
his native department of the Aude, he had se- 
cured an appointment as private secretary to M. 

Asquin, a monarchist deputy. He was then just 
66 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


67 


twenty-one, and the last male descendant of one 
of the oldest families of France. Conscious of 
his good looks, he felt that he was intelligent, 
and he suffered keenly on account of his poverty. 

When Suberceaux first set foot in the French 
capital, he made a silent and solemn vow that he 
would fight his way to the front, cost what it 
might and wrest from fortune both wealth and 
social position. But he was too much of a Don 
Juan to make a successful adventurer and his 
love affairs invariably caused him to neglect his 
more material interests. Until he met Maud de 
Rouvre he was simply a fashionable society man, 
a great favorite in the drawing rooms to which 
he had access, and always able to keep up a good 
appearance, thanks to the liberality of his em- 
ployer and considerable luck at the gaming table. 
M. Asquin’s generosity he was able to repay in a 
measure by assisting the deputy in his amorous 
intrigues. Although past sixty, M. Asquin was 
still rather gay but was obliged naturally, to con- 
ceal his escapades from his constituents. The 
apartment of the rue de la Baume was rented and 
paid for by Asquin in the name of his secretary, 
the latter being permitted to live in it on the con- 
dition of allowing the deputy to use it for his ren- 
dezvous. 

It was Paul Le Tessier at that time deputy of 
the Niort, who introduced Julien de Suberceaux to 
the de Rouvres. The young man knew M. de 
Rouvre by sight, having frequently noticed him, 
with his white whiskers and distinguished man- 
ners around the Paris gaming tables and in the 
haunts of pleasure. The old gentleman was re- 
puted to be rich. No one had any idea of the 


68 


THE DEMI VIRGINS. 


frightful inroads which cards and high living had 
made upon his wife’s fortune since the family had 
come to live in Paris. So when Julien said to 
himself, “ I will marry Maud ! ” he easily persuaded 
himself that by so doing he would be carrying 
out his j)rogramme of winning social position and 
fortune. The truth is the young man had fallen 
in love with Maud at first sight. She fascinated 
him by her beauty and regal grace, but above all 
he was drawn towards her because he recognized 
in her a woman after his own heart, with the same 
disregard and disdain for the conventions of so- 
ciety and the same unscrupulous determination to 
win position and wealth. 

When she was eighteen, Maud knew that her 
parents were ruined and that her only dowry 
would be the small fortune left her by her uncle. 
She had been courted by men from her girlhood, 
and was an expert in making them her slaves, but 
she had already experienced the difficulty of in- 
ducing them to. propose marriage. She had al- 
ready been cruelly disappointed twice by the sud- 
den disappearance of two suitors who became 
aware at the eleventh hour of the insignificance 
of her dowry. She hated her father’s memory, 
because he had ruined them, and she detested 
with the same cordiality all the vain and cynical 
men who simply sought amusement in her society. 
Marriage, therefore, was the goal which she must 
gain at all hazards, legitimately, if possible, by 
ruse if necessary. It was with these sentiments 
in her heart that she first met Julien de Suber- 
ceaux. 

Society watched this striking pair with unaffec- 
ted interest, for it was evident that they were 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


G9 


natural affinities, and that if Maud rejected the 
brilliant young secretary’s advances it was simply 
because her ambition soared yet higher. The in- 
stincts of nature, however, proved stronger than 
considerations purely selfish and worldly, and 
Maud and Julien soon discovered that each was 
essential to the existence of the other. Julien 
loved blindly and passionately, without weighing 
the consequences ; but Maud was secretly morti- 
fied and enraged at her moral and physical de- 
feat, although she acknowledged to herself that 
her heart was captive. Yet she made Julien pay 
cruelly for her own weakness, she told him that 
she would never marry him; that she would wed 
only riches and distinction. She confessed, how- 
ever, that she loved him well enough to become 
his mistress after she had made such a marriage, 
but, until then, he would have to be satisfied with 
that promise. Julien consented, not sorry at 
heart that he could eventually possess this ad- 
mirable creature without being shackled with the 
chains of matrimony. 

During the year which followed their first meet- 
ing, a series of adverse circumstances strength- 
ened them in their resolution to ignore the con- 
ventions of that society which made them suffer. 
Following Maud’s advice, Madame de Rouvre had 
applied for and obtained a divorce and a few 
months after M. de Rouvre died. After his affairs 
had been wound up, there remained to the widow 
about sixty thousand francs, about two hundred 
thousand to Maud and as much more to Jacqueline. 
Had they lived together modestly, the three women 
could have kept up a good appearance on their 
income without touching the capital. But Maud 


70 


THE DEMI VIRGINS. 


was not willing to forego any of her former lux- 
ury. She must have an immense apartment, three 
servants and a swell turn-out ; and as the expen- 
ses far exceeded the income, she did not hesitate 
to supply the deficiency from her own marriage 
portion. She would not let her mother suffer on 
account of luxuries which she herself had deman- 
ded, and Jacqueline was too avaricious and too 
practical to give any assistance from her purse. 
Maud, however, worried very little about money 
matters. She had faith in the future and went on 
ruining herself with serene confidence. Subse- 
quent events proved that there was method in her 
madness. A prodigiously rich young Roumanian 
named Count Christeanu, fell in love with her and 
proposed a week later. He was accepted and 
while on a visit to Roumania to obtain his family’s 
consent, fate willed it that he should quarrel 
with one of his club friends and be shot dead in 
a duel. Maud wore mourning for several weeks 
and Hector Le Tessier remarked at the time: “ This 
woman will be courted only in the midst of trage- 
dies ! ” 

It chanced that just then Julien was also in dif- 
ficulties. In the elections of that year, M. Asquin 
was defeated by his republican opponent and the 
young secretary found himself alone in Paris and 
cut off from all supplies. His luck at the gaming 
table had also turned and at times he was very 
hard pressed for money. Every few months how- 
ever, his old friend, the ex* deputy, came to Paris 
to see Mathilde Duroy and his daughter Etien- 
nette, and for a few weeks Suberceaux was able 
to resume his gay mode of life. Towards the end 
of 1890, M. Asquin died suddenly. Julien expec- 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


71 


ted a legacy, but the will did not mention either 
his name or that of Etiennette, although the latter 
on attaining her majority would receive twenty 
thousand francs from an insurance company. 

Under this keen stress of circumstances Maud 
and Julien were drawn more closely together than 
ever. Julien went every day to the de Rouvre’s, 
spending hours at a time in Maud’s room, and he 
soon accustomed himself to those dangerous and 
passionate tete-a-tetes, which only the fin-de-siecle 
young woman dares to venture upon. With her 
w r arm, sensuous temperament Maud had no diffi- 
culty in making Julien her complete slave. She 
even did more than this, she molded his charac- 
ter into a likeness of her own, leading captive his 
senses and his will. When near her, Julien looked 
upon life as she did, as a merciless struggle for 
wealth and position, and she made him accept her 
frightful proposition to become his mistress after 
her marriage. Yet he did not consent to this in- 
famy without many an internal struggle, for, al- 
though cynical and hardene I in Maud’s presence, 
he was often undecided and in revolt when away 
from her. He told himself again and again that 
he could never see her in the arms of another and 
yet like all weak characters he counted on destiny 
to take care of the future. 

Maud’s finally disclosed intentions with regard 
to Maxime de Chantel filled Suberceaux with 
alarm, and gave him a presentiment of some im- 
pending catastrophe. He felt that Maud was de- 
termined upon this marriage, cost what it might ! 
Had she not for almost six months, and until the 
very last moment, kept from him the secret of 
their meeting at St. Amand? He understood 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


now why she had changed her mode of life dur- 
ing the last six months, why she had watched 
jealously her every word and gesture, so that be- 
fore the world, so quick to blame her conduct, 
she might appear irreproachable. “ I have al- 
lowed myself to be duped,” he thought. “She 
has been unloyal. If I am really her ally she 
should at least keep me informed of her projects. 
Is it possible that she loves him ?” 

So ran Suberceaux’s thoughts as, on this dark, 
blustery February afternoon he strode feverishly 
up and down his room waiting for Maud. The 
day was already far advanced and the street 
lamps were lighted ; snow was falling in thick 
and scattered flakes, and an icy wind howled in 
the chimney and rattled the windows. 

The little Empire clock on the mantel-piece 
struck five. “ She won’t come,” he thought, and 
his anger of the previous evening, which had 
been calmed since Maud had spoken to him in the 
vestibule of the Opera, returned once more. 
Suddenly the electric bell sounded. He started 
violently, and then, without a thought, ran to open 
the door, vanquished and his will power gone. 

The door opened and closed, and he threw his 
arms passionately around a black veiled figure, 
which trembled under his embrace. He could 
not find words to speak. He simply repeated, 
“ Maud ! Maud ! ” and he held her in his arms as 
if fearful she would escape. Growing quieter, 
he led her to a seat. He could only murmur, 
“Maud! My life!” 

She removed her gloves quickly and laid her 
hands upon J ulien’s shoulders ; then, throwing 
her arms around his neck, she drew his head to- 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


73 


wards lier mouth and kissed him hotly, warming 
at the same time her cold fingers on his flushed 
cheeks. She was overcome by emotion at finding 
herself in his room. 

“ I love you ! — I love you ! ” she kept saying, in 
that low, thrilling voice that he alone knew. “ I 
love you ! ” 

Her breath was hot on his face, and the sound 
of the words caressed him like an infinite dream. 

Julien murmured, “ How I have suffered since 
last night ! You did it expressly to torture me ! ” 

She rose slowly, compelling him to rise also, 
and she led him into the little parlor adjoining. 

“ Sit down near me,” she said to him, “ and be 
good. We must talk very seriously. That is 
why I came.” 

“ Is that the only reason ? ” he asked, in a low 
tone. 

<c That is one reason. Really, dear, it’s very im- 
portant. Listen.” 

He obeyed and seated himself near her. She 
fixed upon him the black pupils of her dark-blue 
eyes, which seemed to flash fire as she spoke, and 
to fascinate him with the magnetism which a su- 
perior mind has over a weaker one. 

“ Listen. You know that I love you alone, and 
that I shall never love other than you. You must 
be mad to imagine for a moment that I could pre- 
fer M. de Chantel, and if you would only give the 
matter a moment’s thought you would see how 
ridiculous and groundless your jealousy is. But,” 
she added, and she met Julien’s gaze firmly, “ I 
want to get married, and I want to marry Maxime 
de Chantel.” 

She made a short pause, but Julien did not 


74 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


speak. Her recent words, “ I love you alone ; I 
shall never love any other than you,” had lulled 
his fears. 

“I want to get married,” Maud went on, her 
voice hardening. “The life I’m now leading can- 
not last. We are living above our income, and I 
believe you love me well enough not to wish me 
to become a complete pauper. Therefore I must 
get married. It is my right, and I have always 
told you that it was my wish. We have always 
agreed on this point, have we not ? ” 

“ Yes,” Julien assented. 

“ Well, then, let us keep our word. We have 
evaded the world’s absurd conventions, and for 
my part I’m proud of it. We may be rebels and 
adventurers, but let each of us act up to what he 
agreed, or else — or else let us break off now and 
say farewell.” 

Julien seized her hands wildly. 

“ Don’t say that, Maud ! Don’t say that ! You 
would leave me?” 

“I swear I would,” Maud answered coldly, and 
rising. “ If, in spite of our agreement and your 
promises, in spite of my wishes and my right, you 
sought to prevent my marriage, I swear to you 
that I would never see you again.” 

Then, her voice softening once more, she drew 
his head on her breast, saying, “But I love you. 
I would never let you go ! ” 

Unnerved and overcome with joy, Suberceaux 
yet whispered : “ But suppose you should love 
your husband ! ” 

“No, Julien,” she replied, slowly, “I swear that 
I’ll love you alone, and that I’ll belong to you 
alone. I crave only for you ! Be worthy of my 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


75 


love. Be strong and sensible. My marriage will 
make you a free man, for you will accomplish 
nothing so long as I’m not married. Do you 
want to live from hand to mouth all your life? 
And do you want me to give piano lessons ? It’s 
because I love you that I want to be rich and in- 
dependent. If you love me you ought to be glad 
to see me become a queen. That was your dream 
when I first met you. Have you altered your 
opinion since? ” 

Julien kissed her hands. ‘‘You are right,” he 
said. 

The picture conjured up by Maud’s words made 
him feel for a moment that his will was as strong 
as hers, and that he too could throw aside con- 
ventional morality with the same insolent confi- 
dence, the same disdain for the rights of others. 

Maud saw that he was subdued. 

“It’s late,” she said, “ I must go.” 

“ Oh ! ” begged Julien, “ stay a little — just a 
little—” 

He pointed towards the couch on the other side 
of the room, and reading consent in the young 
girl’s eyes, he lifted her in his strong, nervous 
arms and carried her as a wild beast would its 
prey. But with a quick movement she released 
herself, and drawing away, she said with a smile, 
“Wait!” 

A moment later she was below saying to the 
cabman : 

“22, rue de Berne— as quickly as you can go! ” 

The snow was still falling, mingled with sleet, 
and the cab proceeded with difficulty along the 
slippery streets. It took nearly half an hour to 
reach Etiennette’s house. 




THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


The Duroy’s lived in one of those cheap apart- 
ment houses which look old and dilapidated six 
months after they are built, owing to the inferior 
quality of the materials used in their construction 
and the careless way in which they are looked 
after. With a gesture of repugnance, Maud 
opened the door of a dingy janitor’s room, and 
asked: 

“ Is Mile. Etiennette Duroy in ? ” 

“ The third floor and the first door to the right,” 
replied a stout, slovenly looking woman who ap- 
peared to be cooking her supper in a kind of cup- 
board. 

Maud ascended the stairs. The half-swept 
floors, the torn wall paper, the creaking bannisters 
and the threadbare carpet all pointed to the 
shabby gentility of the tenants, and Maud won- 
dered to herself if it would ever fall to her lot to 
have to live in such wretchedness. Yet that 
awaited her unless she succeeded in marrying 
Maxime de Chantel. 

“ Never ! ” she thought. “ I could never do it ! ” 

Etiennette herself answered the bell. She was 
dressed in a simple little blue gown with a lace 
apron pinned on the breast and tied around the 
waist. 

“ How pretty you look ! ” .cried Maud, kissing 
her. “ I have come to return your visit.” 

“Really?” exclaimed Etiennette joyously. 
“That is nice! You’ll stay to dinner, won’t you? 
Oh, yes you will ! ” she added, seeing a refusal ris- 
ing to Maud’s lips. “ I am all alone. Mamma is 
ill again with' her heart trouble. She’s in bed.” 

“No, dear, it isn’t possible. They expect me at 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


77 


home this evening. The Cliantels are coming to 
dinner. But I can stay half an hour.” 

She followed Etiennette through the narrow 
hallway into the parlor. The ceiling was low and 
the room was crowded with furniture and pictures 
which looked like the relics of former more luxur- 
ious quarters. 

Etiennette explained: “As you see, we haven’t 
much room. We had to move to a smaller apart- 
ment, but we didn’t want to sell at auction the 
few things we had. I shall have to try and earn 
enough with my guitar to pay for a better apart- 
ment later.” 

“Yes,” said Maud sinking into an easy chair. 
“That was just what I came to see you about. I 
scarcely saw you last night at the opera. This is 
what I have arranged; see if you like it. Maxime 
de Chan tel will leave Paris in a few days.” 

“ The gentleman who was with you as you left 
the Opera ? ” 

“Yes,” replied Maud. “He loves me and I like 
him. I want to marry him. This of course is 
strictly in confidence. M. de Chantel will leave 
Paris in a few days for his country place at Poi- 
tou, and if we give a concert, I would like him to 
be present. 

“Of course,” echoed Etiennette, greatly inter- 
ested. 

“ He will come back about the middle of March, 
so we have a month’s time to organize the concert 
which I want to give immediately on his return. 
So get ready your songs and your dresses. You’ll 
just have time.” 

“ How good you are ! ” exclaimed Etiennetto 
gratefully. 


78 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


“No, I’m not,” said Maud. “ It’s a pleasure to 
do anything for you. Besides, are we not allies ? 
Poor darling,” she added after a short pause, 
“our respective positions are not so different as 
you think. Both of us are suffering from man’s 
cowardly selfishness. We must assist each other.” 

Etiennette smiled and replied: “I am your ser- 
vant; do with me as you will. You have not ac- 
cepted our hospitality yet; when will you? I 
have prepared your room. Do you want to see 
it?” 

“Yes, to be sure,” Maud replied, pleased that 
Etiennette should be the first to speak of the real 
object of her visit. For, on leaving Julien she 
had felt that she would be obliged to keep him in 
good humor by giving him more frequent inter- 
views and she had dazzled him by the unexpected 
promise of a rendezvous at Matliilde Duroy’s. 

Taking a lamp from off the table, Etiennette 
preceded Maud. 

“ You see,” she said as they passed along the 
hall, “ you don’t even have to pass through the 
drawing room. You can go direct to the room 
from the front door. Here it is.” 

It was a small room modestly furnished. Maud 
asked: “It’s not your room, is it, ’Tiennette?” 

“Oh, no. My room is next to my mother’s.” 
And slightly coloring, she added: 

“ It was Suzanne’s room. She came back to 
live with us last year. She was suffering a good 
deal with her chest. ” 

“ Where is she now ? ” asked Maud, absent- 
mindedly, inspecting the room and the furniture. 

“ We don’t know,” the little girl said simply. 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


79 


“She went off somewhere with an actor. We 
think she’s in London.” 

A big tear rolled down her reddening cheek. 

“ And where does your mother sleep ? ” Maud 
went on. 

“ On the other side of the drawing room, but 
she’s always in bed. So you see it’s perfectly 
quiet here.” 

“ And the servants ? ” 

Etienne tte smiled. “ The servants consist sim- 
ply of a little maid of all work who is nearly al- 
ways with my mother. Whenever you want to 
come, send me a telegram. I’ll give you a key, so 
you won’t have to ring.” 

She said all this so innocently, happy to serve 
her friend, without thinking of the nature of the 
service. She was so pure herself that the idea of 
questioning the conduct of others never entered her 
head. She was, indeed, a pathetic type frequently 
met with in these great cities, the unsoiled chil- 
dren of the half-world. 

They went back to the drawing room and Maud 
said good-bye. 

“ It’s a quarter to seven already. Just think! 
It’ll take me twenty-five minutes to get home in 
this snow and I have only an hour to dress. Au 
re voir ! ” 

“ Good-bye, if you must,” said Etiennette. Then 
as they were on the threshold of the door, she 
asked : “ Have you seen Paul since last night ? ” 

“ No. Have you, you little puss ? ” 

“ Oh, he comes here nearly every day. But if 
you only knew how respectable our interviews 
are ! He called this morning after lunch and we 
spoke of you. His brother and he talk of having 


80 


THE DEMJ-VIRGINS. 


us all at Ckamblais before Monsieur de Chantel 
leaves for Poitou. Your mother could chaperone 
me. Did you know about it ? ” 

“ No, but it’s very nice of Hector. I am sure it 
was Hector’s idea.” 

“ They both thought of it, I think,” Etiennette 
said. “ Paul wants me to be seen as much as 
possible, of course, among good people.” 

“ So you think Paul is really serious ? ” 

“ Yes, I believe he begins to love me enough to 
ask me to be his wife.” 

“ Well, I wish you luck, dear,” Maud said. 

“ And you too,” Etiennette replied, with a rosy 
blush. 

The two friends kissed each other and Maud 
went down the stairs quickly and entering the cab, 
set off at a galop. 


After placing his stick and coat in a cor- 
ner of the railway carriage in order to reserve his 
place, Maxime de Chantel stepped down on the 
platform of the Northern station. The train that 
was to take him to Chamblais started at five min- 
utes past three and it was then nearing the hour. 

With his measured, military step, Maxime be- 
gan to stride up and down the platform, inspect- 
ing, as he went along, each of the first-class com- 
partments. He had hoped that the de Rouvres, 
who had also been invited to Chamblais, would 
take the same train. He did not see them, 
however, for they had already gone by an earlier 
train. 

Maxime had not seen Maud since the evening 
at the Theatre Francais. Yesterday and to-day 
had seemed an age to him, and he felt so 
utterly deserted and forlorn, that he could no 
longer shut his eyes to the great influence this 
woman had upon his life. He suffered keenly, and 
yet he confided in no one. Even the presence of 
his mother, who adored him, and his sister, whom 
he loved so dearly, annoyed him. He felt that 
6 « 


82 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


they were always watching him tenderly and 
anxiously, although not daring to question him. 
Oh, these thoughts which harass the brain, and 
strangle the heart and clog the soul ! It was no 
longer a caprice of the senses, a breath of desire 
which would drift away with the first breeze, but 
that sensation of the head and heart in chains, — 
that terrible exile from the life of the world, im- 
posed by great passions. 

The railway porters were closing the doors and 
warning the passengers to enter the carriages. 
Re-entering his compartment, Maxime found it 
now occupied by a fat, blond lady, extravagantly 
dressed, who was talking in a strange jargon of 
mixed French and Italian, and by two younger 
ladies dressed alike. The two latter — Madame 
Avrezac and her daughter Juliette — Maxime 
recognized as having seen at the de Rouvres on 
his first visit. He saw at once, however, that 
they did not recognize him. “ It’s not surprising,” 
he thought. “I was not even introduced. So 
much the better; I shan't have to talk.” 

Juliette leaned out of the carriage window and 
called: 

“ Monsieur Aaron ? ” 

Perspiring and gasping, the little banker ran 
up to the carriage and scrambled into the com- 
partment just as the train started. 

“He doesn’t recognize me either,” thought 
Maxime. 

The fat little man had fixed his short-sighted 
eyes upon Maxime without the slightest sign of 
recognition. 

“ Are you going to the Le Tessiers, tpo ? ” asked 
the Italian lady. 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


83 


“Yes, Paul asked me to go down,” replied 
Aaron in his sputtering, gurgling voice; “ we are 
both interested in a little business matter. They 
have a magnificent place down there. You know 
it, Madame Ucelli, do you not ? ” 

“ Ma che ! When the Duchess de la Spezzia 
was in Paris, I often went down there with coach- 
ing parties. But I think this is Madame Avrezac’s 
first visit.” 

Maxime listened in spite of himself. A painful 
presentiment told him that these people were 
going to speak of the woman he loved. Had he 
dared, he would have forbidden them mentioning 
her name. And, indeed, they spoke of her a mo- 
ment later. 

“ I suppose you know,” remarked Mme. Avrezac, 
“that Madame de Bouvre is to do the honors 
at Chamblais ! ” 

“ If she does, it will be while lying on her back,” 
observed Juliette. 

“ Oh, it’s Maud, cara , who has everything to say 
in that family,” put in Madame Ucelli. “ The^ 
mother doesn’t count; she’s a zero.” 

She pronounced it “zerro,” rolling the r like a 
peal of thunder, and by the time she had finished 
there was very little left of poor Mme. de Bouvre. 

“ Paul Le Tessier,” she continued, “ was a very 
old friend of the husband. He knew Maud when 
she was quite a little girl and he is extremely at- 
tached to her.” 

Aaron leaned his oily and sensual face toward 
the three ladies and in a whisper, but loud enough 
to be heard by Maxime, he asked : 

“ What about the brother, Hector ? Hasn’t he 
some intentions with regard to Mademoiselle 


81 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


Maud ? O, I mean honorable intentions, of course,” 
he added as if startled at his own boldness. 

“ Altro ! ” cried the Italian lady. “Our Hector 
marry Maud! He’s far too much of a Parisian for 
that! Especially such a girl as she is! How 
could you think of such a thing ? ” 

“ Hector doesn't like girls who flirt with others 
besides himself,” declared Juliette. 

“I don’t think Maud flirts so much,” said Mme. 
Avrezac. “ I always considered her most digni- 
fied and ladylike.” 

Maxime felt that he could have worshipped 
Mme. Avrezac for even this faint praise. Mme. 
Ucelli resumed: 

“She’s a clever girl. Ma\ Young Lestrange! 
The Roumanian count who was killed so myster- 
iously ! And now, the brilliant Julien de Suber- 
ceaux ! Dio mio ! You can’t deny that he’s one 
of her favorites, can you ? ” 

“ Oh, every girl nowadays flirts a little,” said 
Mme. Avrezac indulgently. “ Its the fashion. 
Juliette tells me that the girls who don’t flirt never 
get married, but it seems to me that it is precisely 
the flirts who never marry.” 

“ You are right, mamma,” said Juliette smartly, 
“ but at least, if we don’t get married, we have 
lots of fun; we are that much ahead.” 

“There is flirting and flirting,” observed Mme. 
Ucelli, significantly. “ I don’t know about the 
others, but ma per\ — Suberceaux! — well — ” 

She finished her sentence in Italian, to herself, 
just as the train stopped at a station. Maxime 
had not heard very distinctly what was said. He 
had simply caught the name of Maud, mixed with 
those of Suberceaux, Lestrange and Hector, and 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


8 5 


Something about a “ Roumanian who was killed 
mysteriously.” He would have liked to choke 
the words that soiled his idol back in the throats 
of those who spoke them, but his still stronger 
desire to learn more and know everything, kept 
him motionless, thirsting for the words that tor- 
tured him. 

After the train had started, Aaron ventured 
again in a whisper: 

“ Do you really believe that Suberceaux — ? ” 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed the Italian lady, shaking her 
finger at the banker, “ you are jealous ! Birbante! 
Be patient. I’d rather bet on you than on all the 
others.” 

Maxime gave such a start that his fellow pas- 
sengers remarked it and glanced at him curiously. 
For a few moments he was beside himself. The 
veins of his forehead stood out in cords and 
seemed ready to burst, and he felt a wild impulse 
to tear the very tongues from these poisonous 
human snakes and crush them under his heel. 
Yet he strove to calm himself, for he knew that it 
would be rendering a very poor service to Maud 
to provoke a scandal. He heard no more, how- 
ever. Aaron had probably recognized him by 
this time, for he leaned over to the women and 
seemed to be warning them. 

At Chamblais they found Hector Le Tessier 
and Jacqueline de Rouvre awaiting their arrival. 

“ We drove down all alone in the dog-cart, just 
like two lovers,” cried Jacqueline, bubbling over 
with her usual high spirits, “ and he carried on so 
dreadfully that I haven’t got over my blushes yet.” 

“ Nonsense ! ” exclaimed Juliette, “ you can’t 
blush, dear. It’s the drive.” 


86 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


“ Aren’t you mean ! ” pouted Jacqueline. 

They kissed each other, rubbing their delicate 
little faces together with the amusing grimaces of 
two rival cats. "When they had all left the sta- 
tion, in front of which stood a dog-cart and a 
four-seated landau, Hector introduced every- 
body. Aaron held out his hand to Maxime, who 
pretended not to see it, and simply bowed, turn- 
ing his head away. 

“I’ll ride in the dog-cart with Monsieur Le 
Tessier,” cried Juliette Avrezac. “ I want to get 
rosy cheeks like Jacqueline’s.” 

“Juliette ! I’m astonished,” said her mother, 
severely. Then in a whisper, she added : “ I 
don’t want this gentleman to go in the landau. 
He looks as if he could eat us alive.” 

So it was arranged that Aaron should ride in the 
landau with the three ladies, and that Maxime 
should get up with Hector. The lighter vehicle, 
with its fleet little stepper, soon distanced the 
landau, which, at a turning of the road, dropped 
from sight. Whipping up the spirited mare Hec- 
tor turned to his companion. 

“ You won’t see our place in its most attrac- 
tive spring garb,” he said, “but such as it is, with 
its bare trees, its glens, and its ponds, still muddy 
from the melted snow, I think it will please you. 
Do you know the history of the chateau ? ” 

“ No,” said Maxime, his thoughts far away, and 
unable to shake off the annoyance caused by the 
scandalous gossip in the train. 

“ A hundred years ago the property was little 
more than a hunting lodge and was owned by a 
Monsieur de Beauregard. He brought down here 
from Paris a celebrated dancer of the time, with 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


87 


whom he was very much smitten, but who did not 
reciprocate his passion. The lady declared the spot 
divine, the only thing lacking being a chateau, as 
in the fairy tale. Six months later this Romeo 
brought his Juliet again to Chamblais, and she 
found that a Monte Cristo had fulfilled her wish. 
As you may imagine, Monsieur Beauregard had 
no further difficulty in winning the lady’s — But 
what’s the matter, old man, you’re not listening f ” 

Maxime started and replied : 

“ No, its true. I’m completely upset. Those 
people I came down with didn’t recognize me and 
talked all the way.” 

“ And I suppose they spoke of Mademoiselle de 
Rouvre ? ” said Hector with some annoyance. 

“ Yes,” said Maxime gloomily. 

“ I need not ask what they said,” returned Hec- 
tor “I know in advance. That Ucelli woman has 
the most slanderous tongue in Paris and that ig- 
noble Aaron, who is for ever annoying Maud with 
his offensive attentions, can’t forgive her for dis- 
daining to notice him. Didn’t I warn you ? I 
suppose they spoke of Suberceaux and Lestrange ?” 

« Yes — and of a certain Roumanian count,” said 
Maxime. 

“Ah,” explained Hector, “that was Count 
Christeanu who made Mademoiselle de Rouvre an 
honorable proposition of marriage and who was 
killed fifteen days later at Bucharest in a quarrel 
with a friend.” 

“ They also spoke of you ! ” 

“ Of me ? ” exclaimed Hector, in surprise. “ In 
connection with Maud ? ” 

“ You are certainly very familiar with her,” 


re- 


88 


THE bEMi-VIRGIttS. 


turned Maxime with a touch of asperity in his 
tone. “ You call her by her first name.” 

They had come to a hill and Hector put the 
mare at a walk. “ Really, my dear fellow, you 
must be out of your mind,” he laughed. “I’ve 
known Maud since she was fourteen and in short 
dresses. Her father and my brother Paul were 
like brothers. No, really,” he continued shaking 
his head, “ its hardly fair to a woman one loves to 
suspect her like that ! Do you want me to give 
you my word of honor that I have never been any- 
thing more to Maud than a friend? ” 

“You’re right,” replied Maxime lowering his 
head. “ I ought and I want to believe in her — 
and — if you gave me your word — perhaps it would 
remove the horrible impression made by what I 
heard just now.” 

“Well then, I give you my word of honor,” said 
Hector frankly and heartily. “Are you satis- 
fied?” 

Maxime thanked him by a look and they said 
no more until the white terraces of the Chateau 
d’Armide came into sight. “Strange fellow,” 
thought Hector, as the dog cart rolled along a 
broad avenue, lined with leafless oak trees. “Yet 
perhaps I am stranger than he. Here I am de- 
fending Maud as vigorously as if I were certain 
that she is as I represent her. I certainly w T ouldn’t 
marry her myself! — No — but would I marry any 
one ? Anyhow, its a cowardly thing to try to pre- 
vent a girl from making a decent marriage by 
raking up a lot of scandalous stories.” 

Alighting at the front entrance and totally ob- 
livious of the exquisite surroundings of this fairy- 


THE HEMt-VlRClKS. 


80 


like abode, larger and more sumptuous than many 
a royal residence, Maxime asked: 

“How long will it be before dinner? ” 

“About an hour and a half. Will you dress 
now ? ” 

“Not yet. It won’t take me more than twenty 
minutes. Do you mind if I don’t show myself for 
a bit ? I’m too much upset and if I met that 
banker or Italian woman, I’d say something I 
might regret afterwards. Let me take a ramble 
alone in the park. It will do me good.” 

“ Certainly,” said Hector, easily, “ make your- 
self entirely at home. When you come in one of 
the servants will show you your room.” 

The landau had just appeared on the crest of 
the hill. Maxime turned and walked quickly to- 
wards the most wooded and solitary part of the 
park. His way lay through a long avenue of 
elms terminating in a large open, suggesting the 
nave of a cathedral. Night was falling, but slow- 
ly, like a summer twilight. Overhead the blue 
sky grew a deeper azure, and the stars glimmered 
faintly here and there. Low on the horizon lay 
the silver crescent of the new moon. 

Maxime walked on, his eyes blind to everything, 
a tempest raging in his soul, and yet trying to re- 
strain himself and to think calmly and clearly. 
Inwardly a voice was saying : “ Have a care ! See 
how you have already suffered by this woman, 
and yet you have not even told her that you love 
her ! Have a care ! She is not for such as you ! 
There is still time to flee ! ” 

Yes, there was still time to flee, and for a mo- 
ment he thought of doing so — of escaping like a 
thief in the night, of rushing through the forest 


90 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


like a hunted man to the railway station, and 
there taking the first train to Paris, and on be- 
yond Paris, home to the solitudes of Vezeris, 
where he would remain until nepenthe had healed 
his wounds. But he thought : 

“ Forget her ! I shall never forget her ! When 
I left Saint-Amand I didn’t love her, I couldn’t 
love her, I had hardly seen her. And yet I did 
not forget — ” 

His random steps had led him to the edge of 
an immense pond, which' in the uncertain light 
seemed larger still, its limits concealed in the 
mists. Drawn up on its bank was a small yawl. 
There were no sculls in it, only one of those oars 
with wide blades, which are used like a propeller. 
He got in and pushed out from the shore. In the 
midst of its waters, darkened by the gloomy pe- 
numbra of twilight, he felt more lonely than ever, 
and in the oppressive silence of the place, the 
voice within him asserted itself more imperiously. 

“ Have a care ! Have a care ! ” it said. “ This 
woman is an enigma. She lives amid mystery 
and drama ! ” 

He ceased rowing and allowed the boat to drift 
slowly along until it caught in the bushes over- 
hanging the sides of the water. Suddenly he 
heard the dinner bell sound in the direction of 
the chateau. He must make up his mind to stay 
or go. He evoked Maud’s image, the Maud of 
the opera night and the ball-room, with her mag- 
nificent hair and her bare white shoulders. She 
was here close by him ! He could only be with 
her a few hours more ! How could he think of 
deserting her? And a sudden violent reflux of 
passion and tenderness swept away the last ves- 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


91 


tige of his hesitation. He pulled quickly to the 
bank, fastened the yawl, and ran to the chateau. 
It was already past seven, and he had only a mo- 
ment in w'hich to dress. As he went down to the 
drawing room dinner was announced. He only 
caught a glimpse of Maud attired in a gown of 
dark-green velvet, as she left the drawing room 
on Hector’s arm ; but at the table he found himself 
seated beside her. She questioned him in an in- 
different way as to why he was late. He replied 
to her question in the same tone. On Maud’s 
right was the fashionable novelist, Henri Espiens, 
with whom she talked almost the whole time. He 
discoursed of love and women in a supercilious, 
affected manner, and gave an irritating little 
laugh of satisfaction each time he polished an 
epigram with a keener tip of malice. Maud lis- 
tened and smiled, but rarely replied. 

Maxime contemplated the assembled guests 
with curiosity. He was unable to read each char- 
acter off-hand, as Le Tessier or Suberceaux could 
have done, but he began to understand of what 
clay these fashionables were made. He recognized 
that they were no better and no worse than the 
rest of Paris, but exceedingly selfish in their 
pleasures, indulgent to each others' vices, incapa- 
ble either of jealousy or of passion, fond of in- 
trigue and scandal, and advocating absolute 
license between the two sexes. 

As arranged by Madame de Rouvre and Paul 
Le Tessier, the guests were most advantageously 
placed to carry on those little sensual intrigues 
which polite society masks under the innocent 
name of flirting. They had put Lestrange be- 
tween Jacqueline and Martha de Reversier, so he 


92 


THE t>EMl-VlRGlftS. 


could indulge his monomania to his heart’s de- 
sire ; Aaron was mumbling equivocal stories to 
the fat bosom of Madame Ucelli, and Hector Le 
Tessier conversed in a low tone with Madeline de 
Keversier who, every now and then, pretended to 
hit his knuckles for something he had said. Paul 
Le Tessier had considerately placed Etiennette 
next to himself and he did not hesitate to regard 
her with tenderness, nor did she fail to return him 
many an affectionate glance, although at moments 
she was rendered sad by the recollection of her 
mother who grew worse each day. Every one 
seemed to indulge his inclinations with the sanc- 
tion and even approval of the mothers present, 
who ate heartily and paid scant attention to the 
high-seasoned gossip which was being retailed in 
the hearing of their daughters. Had they not 
even placed Maxime on Maud’s right so that he 
could press his advantage like the rest and ob- 
tain some concession from his neighbor ? 

“ Happily Suberceaux wasn’t invited,” he 
thought bitterly ; “ otherwise, they would have 
put him on the other side, in the novelist’s place.” 

The entire company and the room itself remind- 
ed him of some disreputable restaurant, and the 
proceedings seemed even more immoral and dis- 
graceful on account of the presence of so many 
young girls. 

“ T’m glad Jeanne and my mother didn’t come ! ” 
thought Maxime. 

Aaron was just finishing a story about some so- 
ciety woman who had been surprised by her hus- 
band, and the banker seemed to enjoy giving 
every detail of the scandal the recital of which 
had caused all other conversation to cease. Max- 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


93 


ime watched Maud closely She seemed preoccu- 
pied, her thoughts far away. Evidently she was 
not listening, although the other young girls were 
straining their ears to catch every spicy par- 
ticular. With an involuntary and half smothered 
exclamation of anger, Maxime struck the table 
impatiently with his fist causing Maud’s fan to fall 
on the floor. He stooped to pick it up and when 
he raised his head his face was still paler than 
before. He had perceived under the table, Mar- 
tha de Reversier’s leg thrown across Lestrange’s. 

“ What's the matter ? ” asked Maud, uneasy at 
his silence and his nervousness, although her in- 
fallible Roman’s instinct told her that he was her’s 
at this moment, and enslaved more than ever by 
his jealousy. 

“ Nothing,” replied Maxime. “ Only it is horri- 
bly hot here.” 

The company adjourned to the drawing room, 
where the coffee was served. Through the win- 
dows the park lay ba'hed in a soft moonlight, 
while overhead, the heavens were studded with 
millions of stars. 

“Oh let us go outside,” cried Etiennette. “It’s 
beautiful in the park to-night. We still have an 
hour before the train goes.” 

As the coffee was sipped hastily, the servants 
brought cloaks and wraps. Maxime assisted Maud 
de Rouvre to put on hers, a long mantle of rich 
velvet. Maud took his arm. She said in a whis- 
per: 

“ Take me far away from these people.” 

He was grateful to her for interpreting so well 
his own wish. They went off towards the wood. 
Other couples followed them, but Maxime took 


94 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


the cross cut he had discovered before dinner, de- 
scending towards the lake. To both came a sense 
of isolation from the rest of the world. The pond 
now seemed without limits, like those mysterious 
African lakes on whose borders the traveler halts 
and wonders if he has reached the sea. The bare 
trees lined the banks with their dark and rigid 
lineaments, and the moonbeams shone peacefully 
on the placid surface of the water. 

“ How beautiful ! ” murmured Maud. 

With the tip of her dainty foot, she touched the 
yawl. Her eyes as they wandered over the water 
were more radiant far than the stars mirrored in 
the depths of the lake, the beauty of thg victori- 
ous woman eclipsing the beauty of nature, the 
grace of the woman beloved eclipsing the poetry 
of the night. 

“ Shall we take a row ? ” asked Maxime pointing 
to the boat. 

“ Glorious ! ” she exclaimed. “ And let us go a 
long way — a very long way — all alone.” 

He jumped into the yawl, took Maud in his 
strong arms and placed her on the stern seat as 
tenderly as if she were an infant. Then, seating 
himself in front of her, he unfastened the mooring 
and the boat glided noiselessly out upon the 
water. 

“ I adore her, I adore her,” thought Maxime, 
once more under the spell. “ She shall never be- 
long to another ! ” 

The banks were soon lost to view, and they 
could have fancied themselves in the open sea a 
hundred miles from land. Maxime suddenly 
threw his oar to the bottom of the boat and said 
in a low tone: 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


95 


“ I wish this hour would never end, or that this 
pond might swallow us both up so that no one 
ever saw us again.” 

Fixing upon him her dark eyes, the magnetic 
power of which she knew so well, she replied : 

“ Why do you doubt me ?” 

Her simple words struck him like a whip-lash, 
and he was at her feet in an instant, kissing the 
hand she abandoned to him, and stammering : 

“ Forgive me ! Forgive me !” 

“Do you think for a moment,” she said, with an 
infinite weariness in her voice, “ that this life and 
these people please me ? Ah, what would I give 
to escape from that horrible Paris!” 

With his lips upon her hand which she was now 
trying to withdraw, Maxime repeated feverishly : 

“ Forgive me ! I love you so ! ” 

She withdrew her hand quickly and said, with- 
out anger, but with some emotion : 

“ Take me back !” 

He took up the oar without a word, and they 
were soon on the bank. As they drew near the 
chateau, Maxime’s burning passion broke its 
bounds, and in low and surcharged tones that 
thrilled Maud more deeply than she had imagined 
possible, he poured forth his avowal : 

“ Maud,” he said, “ you know I am yours. I 
do not give myself only in part ; I am your slave 
— for always, if you wish it. But, I beg of you, 
if you intend to reject me, do not play with me, as 
you perhaps would with one of the many light 
hearted men who surround you. You know that 
I’m going away soon, and I expect to stay three 
weeks at Vezeris and then come back ? Tell me 
that I may come!” 


96 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


Taking his arm in her own, she said softly : 

“ Have you faith in me now ?” 

He replied : “ Yes, I have faith !” 

“ As in your sister?’’ 

“ As in my sister !” 

“ And you love me ?” 

“ More than my sister, more than my mother, 
more than my life !” 

“ Then,” said Maud, slowly : “ Come back ! 
During these three weeks think of me, think of 
your future. I will not consent to be your wife 
until you have thought it over well, and have 
asked me again. For my part, I promise you 
that until your return, I shall not be seen at the 
theatre nor in society ; I shall not go out.” 

“Oh, forgive me! forgive me my base sus- 
picions ! ” exclaimed Maxime. “I am unworthy of 
you!” 

He longed to draw her to him and yet he was 
happy at feeling her resist and refuse even the 
chaste embrace of their betrothal. He could not 
detect in her quick and involuntary recoil, the in- 
stinctive revolt of the woman in love with another 
man and still a novice in the art of sharing her 
affections ! 


THE SECOND PART. 


I 

I. 


Vezeris, March, 1893. 

“ I venture to write to you, although not knowing- 
how to address you — you, whose name I scarcely 
dare pronounce even to myself when I think of 
you, which is every moment of the day. I have 
seen you so little ! I have spoken to you so lit- 
tle ! Now that you are far distant again, it seems 
to me that you must have forgotten me. Oh, how 
far away I feel from you, not only by the leagues 
that separate us, but by the dissimilarity of our 
ways of living. Do not think I am talking at 
random, I beg of you. It is my heart which I 
lay bare before you. I assure you that I feel as 
far removed from you as I, myself, am far re- 
moved from the most uncouth of my shepherds. 

“ There are moments when I regret it, when I 
wish I were more like your Parisian friends, so 
7 07 


98 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


that I could express myself and make you under- 
stand better all I feel. Yet it would be ridicu- 
lous in me to attempt to play a part for which I 
was never intended. And did I attempt it I 
should surely fail. You have around you twenty 
admirers, each more brilliant and entertaining 
than the humble recluse of Yezeris. I can only 
lay at your feet my impassioned affection, little as 
that may be to you. What can I do ? I beseech 
you to allow yourself to be loved ! I ask of you 
a most extraordinary and undeserved favor. I 
acknowledge I am tbe least worthy of all your 
suitors, and yet I ask you to prefer me to any of 
them! 

“ I love you so much ! Now that I am so far 
away let me say these words which have stifled 
me so long. No one will adore you as I do. 
No one in the world will surrender his whole life 
to you so completely as I have, caring for nothing 
else than being yours and making you happy. If 
I am aware of my own unworthiness, there is still 
one thing of which I am proud. I offer you a 
character better, higher, more worthy of yourself 
than those of your Parisians. For Heaven’s sake 
do not love such as these, whose vices and empti- 
ness appall me ! When I think that, at this very 
moment, one of them might be near you, speak- 
ing to you, perhaps pleasing you, everything that 
is violent in my nature is aroused. I feel that I 
would like to thrust back their false words into 
their lying mouths, and take you away in spite of 
yourself from all that is unworthy of you. For- 
give me for writing you like this. Such thoughts 
torture me continually, and I felt that I must tell 
you! 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


99 


“ Do you know tlie dream in which. I love to in- 
dulge, and which I often conjure up in my soli- 
tude ? I imagine you quite a little girl, and I already 
a man, such as, ten years ago, I found my sister 
Jeanne when I came hack to Vezeris after leaving 
the regiment. I became immediately attached to 
her childlike and innocent ways. I resolved to 
make her my companion, to watch over her edu- 
cation, and to mold her mind, so that the best of 
my own piinciples and ideas might blossom in 
her. Jeanne has had no other tutor and no other 
friend, except in those occupations exclusively 
feminine which my mother has taught her. Oh, 
if only I could have known you as a child, Maud, 
and brought you up in like manner ! You would 
perhaps have been less brilliant and less queenly. 
But I should have held the key of your heart and 
your mind, and I should not be forced to wander 
around suspiciously amid the mystery which sur- 
rounds you ! 

“ Yet perhaps I am wrong. It may be that 
what I so blindly love in you is the very opposite 
of what I love in Jeanne. Your mysterious 
queenliness, which frightens me, has subjugated 
me. Forgive me. I did not know what I was 
saying. I do not want you other than you are. 
The last words you said to me reassure me. The 
memory of that brief hour we spent together, 
those fleeting moments of happiness passed alone 
with you just before we said farewell, gives me 
courage. For, mrworthy as I may be of you, you 
have consented to be mine. That is all I ask 
from you at present, and I fear I am dreaming 
when I think that you have promised even that. 

“ Be kind to me. Write to me. I do not ask 


100 


THE DEMI VIRGINS. 


for anything more than yon have already given me, 
but I beg you to write to me these words : ‘ I am 
always the same.’ I must have that reassurance 
to be able to go on living until I can see you again. 

“ I think of nothing but you, I live only for 
you. The lack of interest I now take in everything 
which does not immediately concern you startles 
me. I seem to have lost all affection for every 
one who was once most dear. I am even indiffer- 
ent to my mother’s absence, and I no longer take 
pleasure in poor Jeanne’s society. She feels it, 
poor child ! I am terribly lonely. It is no longer 
I who walk about, who works, or speaks. It is a 
kind of phantom whose actions I watch as though 
in a dream. It would take a more facile pen than 
mine to describe all my sensations, but you, who 
understand everything, will understand what I 
cannot express. 

Paris, March, 1893. 

“ I have never so deeply regretted, my dear 
Maxime, not being a public man like my brother 
Paul as I do now, for I could then have urged a 
good excuse for this delay in replying to your 
letter. Alas, I suppose I shall always be “ the 
Le Tessier who does nothing,’’ as I have been de- 
scribed by every one for the last ten years. 

“ You are industrious and probably despise my 
inertia. It is true that I don’t do much, and that 
I even let fifteen days go by without replying to 
the letter of a friend whom I esteem. I wonder 
if you will believe me when I tell you that I am 
lazy on principle and that I became so the day 
when I arrived at the conclusion that everybody 
can do things better than I can myself. A terri- 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


101 


ble feeling of “ what’s the good ” condemns me to 
eternal inactivity. My circumstances permit me 
to remain idle and I have resigned myself to he 
merely a spectator of the industry and activity of 
others. 

“ I was very much interested in your letter 
■which, in spite of its guarded language, betrayed 
your uneasiness. You wish to know how matters 
are in Paris ? I will endeavor to inform you as well 
as I am able ; particularly in the matter nearest 
your heart. 

“ For a reason that you perhaps can explain, we 
have hardly seen our friends the de Rouvres 
since you left Paris. Mme. de Rouvre is still ill, 
and her daughters have taken advantage of this 
excuse to refuse all invitations — dinners, theatres, 
and every social function. However, I have seen 
Mile, de Rouvre every week for I never miss 
their Tuesday evenings. I met there Mme. de 
Chantel who seemed in the best of health. You 
have every reason to feel gratified on that score. 
Mile, de Rouvre is as “ queenly ” as ever, but 
seems rather preoccupied just now and perfectly 
indifferent to her own charms. She confessed 
to Paul and me the other day that Paris had be- 
come a desert to her and that she wanted very 
much to get away. Of course we immediately 
offered to put Chamblais at her disposal. We 
are not living there now, and it is a delightful 
place m the spring. I think Madame de Rouvre 
would accept if she could bring herself to leave 
your mother. 

“ Are you interested in gossip ? I do not know 
whether you are or not. You asked me for in- 
formation concerning the people that you met here. 


102 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


The Duchess de la Spezzia and all her cortina 
have been in Paris for a few days and the event 
has been marked by a series of dinners, soirees 
and coaching parties, at all of which Madame 
Ucelli and the inseparable Cecile, have taken 
part. Mile. Cecile’s morphine habit, by the 
way, is making her look sepulchral. The brill- 
iant Suberceaux is very busily occupied compro- 
mising little Juliette Avrezac with the tacit con- 
sent of her mother, who knows precisely what 
kind of a man Julien is and who would not let 
her daughter marry him for anything in the 
world. Another surprising piece of gossip is 
that Jacqueline de Rouvre and Luc Lestrange 
are going to be married. Fancy Maud’s clever 
little sister getting the better of that hardened 
old bachelor ! I am sure it will make Martha de 
Iteversier cry her eyes out 

“ Now I have told all there is to tell concerning 
the “ demi- virgins. ” I might add that the di- 
rector of the Comptoir Catholique has just made 
several millions in selling out some American 
stocks before they went down, and that Suzanne 
Duroy, sister of the pretty Etiennette whom you 
admired at Chamblais, is still absent in an un- 
known country, and that her mother is very ill 
indeed and likely to die at any time. 

“I know all this idle gossip must seem very 
stupid and uninteresting to you ; it does to me. 
To think that I shall soon be thirty and that the 
best years of my life have been spent among the 
empty-headed fools that constitute Parisian so- 
ciety. I assure you I am heartily sick of it. So 
don’t judge me by my inertia or by my so-called 
pleasures, I beg of you. If you knew how many 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


103 


times I have longed to leave all these so-called 
friends and to begin life anew somewhere else, 
you would believe that I speak earnestly. But 
it’s not easy to change one’s habits. It takes a 
woman to change the life of a man of thirty. 
And where could I find a woman such as I would 
be willing to marry? 

“ Many of my friends here would laugh if they 
could read what I have written. They are wait- 
ing for me at this present moment to go and dine 
with some women who are far more stupid and 
tiresome than respectable, and not very respect- 
able at that. We shall drop in at the theatre for 
a while, and then to supper, and then to bed. 
Such is city life ! 

“ Pity me, think of me, and write to me. And 
(this is a secret between ourselves) tell me if the 
sweet little companion of your solitude has quite 
forgotten her Paris friends. 


Paris, March, 1893. 


Dear Monsieur de Chantel : 

Why do you persist 
in writing letters to me which embarass me, and 
which I am obliged to pretend not to have read, 
in order to be able to write to you ? Would you 
like it if you found a letter from Hector Le Tes- 
sier to your sister Jeanne (these names are not 
chosen at random) written in the same tone as 
your last letter to me ? Do you not think that 
one should be more circumspect in writing to a 
young girl, even when one’s affection for her is 
honorable ? I have the right to exact from you 
the same respect that you would expect to be 
paid your sister Jeanne. Even in the society I 


104 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


move in, which pleases me no more than it does 
you, no one is ever disrespectful to me. If you 
were lacking in respect, I should feel it more 
than from anyone else. 

“Now that I have finished scolding, I will reply 
to what I may acknowledge having read of your 
letter. You say that you feel as far away from me 
as the most uncouth of your shepherds is removed 
from yourself. I, on the contrary, feel as though 
I were very near you. I immediately recognized 
in you as one recognizes the land marks of one’s 
native place, qualities that I love above all in a 
man, loyalty and goodness of heart, and a little 
of that abruptness which is never out of place in 
strong characters. Believe me, I am far more 
weary than you of those irritating cynics and 
worthless idlers who constitute contemporary 
masculine society. None of these men, I assure 
you, will ever occupy one of my thoughts. I feel 
it is such as these who are far away from me. 
My sympathies are entirely with men of energy 
and resolution — I was almost going to say, of 
fiery temperament. What I like best in you is 
precisely that jealousy w r hich underlies your af- 
fection. Kemain, therefore, for me what you are. 

“ But when you think of your friend, think of her 
only. Forget her surroundings which, for her, 
do not count. You will soon be here again with 
your dear sister Jeanne. We will receive you 
royally, that we may reconcile you to Paris and 
make you forget Vezeri3 temporarily. I have 
not gone out in the evening either to ball or 
theatre, since your absence. I shall make my re- 
appearance in society in our own house and in 
your presence. We are going to have a large re- 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


105 


ception on the third of April. There will be 
music until midnight and dancing and supper af- 
terwards. Don’t forget to come to Paris in time. 
I shall never forgive you if you don’t come, and 
yet I know you are quite likely to change your 
mind at the last moment. 

“ So good-bye for the present. Think of me 
meantime as I want you to think of me, that is to 
say, with respect and with faith. Kiss that dear 
little Jeannette for me. I love in her what I ad- 
mire in you, what you have given her. 

Maud. 

Vezeris, March, 1893. 

It is decided, mother dear, that we leave Vez- 
eris for Paris the day after to-morrow. Maxime 
has arranged everything and my trunk is already 
packed. I can hardly wait for the hour of depar- 
ture to come. It seems an eternity since I saw 
you last. Just fancy, although I am always think- 
ing of you, I can’t quite recall your face, or at 
least its image in my brain seems weaker and re- 
quires an effort to call it up. That causes me 
much sorrow and makes me cry, mother dear. 

“Oh, how long these weeks spent here have 
seemed away from you. I didn’t tell you so for I 
didn’t want to worry you. But I have been very 
unhappy. Maxime is so changed ! He seems to 
have lost all his old affection for me. He scarcely 
speaks to me and when I speak to him I see that 
he does not listen. From time to time he takes 
me on his knee, as he used to and kisses me very 
hard, even roughly. But it is no longer the same 
affection as before. He doesn’t love me better 


106 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


than anybody, as lie used to. He loves the beau- 
tiful Maud de Rouvre now. Why doesn’t he tell 
us so ? I should be very glad to love her too if 
she loves him and will make him happy. And 
yet, mamma, she intimidates me. She’s too beau- 
tiful. She talks too well. When I’m near her, I 
feel ashamed of being so quiet and unused to so- 
ciety. Besides, I never speak to anyone except 
to Maxime and you. And now Maxime begins to 
frighten me, too. 

“ It appears that we are going on the third of 
April to a big ball at the de Rouvres. How tire- 
some it will be for me ! As you know, mother 
dear, I am very fond of dancing, but one has to 
talk, too, and I never know what to say when 
those Parisian gentlemen talk to me. 

4 ‘There’s nothing new since my last letter. The 
weather is splendid and so hot that one would be- 
lieve it was summer. Oh, yes, here’s a piece of 
news ! Mathilde Sorbier, the servant of the Crois- 
sets who married Joseph de Leperoux four months 
ago, has just had a pretty little boy. She is very 
glad that it came so soon, because the country 
folk think it is a kind of a miracle when the child 
is born so quickly. It was baptized last Tuesday 
at the Chapel of the Virgin. 

“ Good-bye, mamma dear, for the present. Your 
little Jeanne kisses you respectfully and tenderly 
and will be very happy to see- you again.” 


II. 


Placed upon a stage erected at tlie back of the 
hall and half hidden behind a luxurious profusion 
of plants, lit up by incandescent globes, the or- 
chestra began the finale of the symphony in C 
minor of Borodine. It was not yet midnight, but 
that the audience was already weary of the con- 
cert was evidenced by the tired eyes of the women 
seated side by side in parallel rows, and by the 
bored attitudes of the men who leaned against the 
doors and walls or wandered aimlessly through 
the corridors. The attention of the guests seemed 
strained and their applause forced. Some, indeed, 
a few smokers, and three or four young couples, 
unmindful of criticism, had taken refuge in the 
drawing rooms and in the other apartments, all of 
which had been thrown open and in which the 
lights were less tiring and the air fresher. 

Luc Lestrange was alone in the little ante- 
chamber which Maud used as a boudoir and in 
which she kept her private library, her piano and 
her English mahogany desk. The young man 
was seated in a reclining position on the sofa, 
nervously twisting the point of his blond beard. 
He seemed to be waiting for some one and started 

107 


108 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


to his feet at every footstep that approached the 
room. 

“ At last you’ve come,” he cried on seeing Jacque- 
line appear in the doorway. “ I began to think 
you had forgotten all about me.” Looking her 
over from head to foot, he added, “ Mon dieu, 
you’re pretty enough to-night to eat.” 

She, half serious, half jesting, took hold of her 
dress with each hand and courtesied ceremo- 
niously, displaying her dainty white silk stockings. 
Lestrange glanced around to see if they were 
alone, then, throwing his arm around Jacqueline’s 
waist, he tried to kiss her neck. But more quick 
than he, she slipped away from his embrace and 
took refuge behind the piano. With one foot on 
the soft pedal, she ran her fingers over the key- 
board, bending so low that her decollete dress al- 
most disclosed her well-developed bosom. 

“ Jacqueline — ! ” murmured Lestrange. 

“ Oh, it’s no use calling Jacqueline,” she ex- 
claimed laughing, twisting herself on the piano 
stool and ready to run away if he made another 
attack. “You shan’t kiss my neck, my cheeks, 
my arms, or anything. This is my first evening 
in my long dress and I’m a grown up lady.” 

And so as to show, probably, that her dress was 
really a long one, she threw one foot over the 
other quickly, exposing a tempting ankle. Les- 
trange bit his lips. 

“ Yes you may,” she added suddenly, “ you may 
kiss my hand.” 

She snatched her left glove off with one pull 
and extended her bared arm. Lestrange put his 
lips to the tips of her fingers, and then, slowly, 
and with infinite enjoyment, he kissed each bit of 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


109 


her arm all the way up to her shoulder. Jacque- 
line, with her eyes half closed, and taking deep 
breaths, did not make a movement. Suddenly 
she withdrew her hand. 

“That’s enough for to-day,” she said, with a 
little sigh, “Now sit down and we’ll talk.” She 
pointed towards the sofa, and Lestrange did as 
he was told. 

“How funny you look to-night,” she said. 
“What’s the matter with you? You make the 
same eyes at me as Monsieur de Chantel makes at 
ym sister.” 

Lestrange pretended to laugh, but his voice 
had a curious ring. “ It’s because you make fun 
of me as you do of everyone else,” said Lestrange, 
his voice betraying the emotion he really felt. 
“ Really, you make me suffer. It may seem ab- 
surd that a child like you could, but it’s true all 
the same. I expect to pass a horrible night.” 

“ Bah ! ” exclaimed Jacqueline, playing with her 
fan. “ You must know a lot of nice girls with 
whom you could spend a far more pleasant even- 
ing than this.” 

“I don’t care for such girls,” replied Lestrange. 

“Well, then, actresses or ladies for lonely gen- 
tlemen, or whatever you like to call them. But 
you surely don’t want me to give you any ad- 
dresses, do you ? ” 

“Just as if an actress or any other woman could 
make me forget you,” replied Lestrange, seri- 
ously. 

“Well, try some married woman, then,” said 
Jacqueline, laughing. “ That little Madame Duclerc 
was trying hard to fascinate you just now. Oh, I 


110 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


saw everything ! You asked lier for a flower, and 
you have it now in your buttonhole.” 

“I don’t care for her flower,” retorted Les- 
trange. Then, snatching it from his buttonhole 
he threw it on the ground. “A woman who has 
^ had three children doesn’t tempt me.” 

Jacqueline picked up the flower and pulled it to 
pieces. 

“You see, that’s where you men have been 
spoiled,” she said. “You cultivate a taste for 
young girls, and you are not satisfied with the 
ripe fruit.” 

A couple appeared on the threshold of the 
room. A young woman with a virginal face and 
her hair parted in the middle was leaning on the 
arm of Henri Espiens. Seeing that the ante- 
chamber was occupied, they beat a quick retreat. 

“Ah,” said Jacqueline, “ there is that poor little 
Duclerc ! The novelist is consoling her for your 
disdain.” 

“ He’s an awful bore. He is perfectly welcome 
to her if she can put up with him.” 

They were silent. The orchestra in the dis- 
tance after a brief interlude began the last num- 
ber on the programme. 

“If I were a man,” said Jacqueline thoughtfully, 
“I suppose I should do exactly as you do. I 
don’t think mothers with a numerous family would 
fill me with much joy. I see some of them at the 
baths, and I assure you they don’t look as at- 
tractive in the water as they do here to-night. A 
young girl of seventeen, on the contrary — fresh 
and virginal like — Madeline de Reversier — ” 

“ Don’t speak to me of others,” interrupted Les- 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


Ill 


trange savagely. “ It’s you alone I want, and you 
know it.” 

“I know you ‘want me.’ You want every 
woman and every young girl you see. You even 
turned your hungry looking eyes on that poor 
little bag of bones, Jeanne de Chantel. Don’t say 
no. You’ve got a regular disease for women. 
You ought to take something for it. However, 
I’m not blaming you and I assure you I’m not 
jealous.” 

While talking she amused herself by pressing 
to her lips the bruised flower which she had twist- 
ed between her fingers. 

Lestrange murmured: “I want you above any- 
one.” But seeing an ironical smile in Jacqueline’s 
eyes, he did not dare to say again, “I love you.” 

Holding the flower up to her lips she asked : 
“ It's serious then ? ” 

Quite serious.” 

“ Well, if it’s serious,” she replied tranquilly, 
“why don’t you marry me? Ah, you see, now 
you are beginning to make a face.” 

“ No, I’m not.” 

“ Yes, you are, you are making a face. My dear 
Luc, what do you expect? Do you want me to 
do the same as Madeline de Reversier, Juliette 
Avrezac and a lot of other girls would do ? Bribe 
chambermaids and go to young men’s rooms as if 
I were a legitimate wife ? No, my dear fellow. 
I’m old enough to know that’s a pretty dangerous 
game and that it costs the girl more than it costs 
the man. I’ll never .do that. The man who wants 
me must marry me. I’m not such a bad match. 
I am well-born and I have two hundred thousand 
francs dowry. It isn’t much perhaps, but in these 


112 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


times io’s not to be sniffed at. I may be a mad- 
cap —that’s admissable on account of my youth — 
but I shall know how to behave when I am mar- 
ried. And as for now, you could seek all over 
Paris and even in Orleans and you wouldn’t find 
a more Jeanne d’ Arc young woman than your 
humble servant. Yes, even the little Chantel 
girl in spite of her virginal looking lips — I’m as 
good as she. Of course, I’m not an ignoramus. 
I know that children are not made by planting 
cabbages, and I am not a little white goose, as our 
friend Hector says. Still I do not think my hus- 
band will find me any less virtuous for that.” 

In the distance, the symphony was ending in 
slow chords. Great applause followed, and the 
auditors were heard coming towards the drawing 
rooms. Luc Lestrange looked at Jacqueline and 
did not reply. 

“ That’s all there is about it, my dear friend,” 
she said. “ Petlect and decide. You must either 
marry me or you’ll have nothing more from me 
— than this.” 

And she threw at his face the broken white 
fiower which she had touched with her lips, as 
she skipped away. 

Lestrange tried to follow her, but his passage 
was barred by the people coming out of the hall. 
He saw Jacqueline from the distance leaning on 
the arm of Doctor Krauss, a bald-headed man of 
about forty, with a haughty looking face regarding 
tranquilly through his eye glasses this assemblage 
of moral and physical wrecks whose vices enabled 
him to live. 

At the entrance of the hall, Lestrange met 
Paul Le Tessier who was talking to Etiennette 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS 


113 


Duroy. Both were standing up, and the senator 
was casting glances that were more than paternal 
on the adorable decolletee neck of the young 
girl. The two men shook hands. Lestrange 
asked : 

“ Is it not your turn, Mademoiselle ? Aren’t 
you going to stop these deluges of learned har- 
mony and sing us something simple and sweet ?” 

Still agitated from his interview with Jacque- 
line, he fixed his eyes on Etiennette’s blue orbs. 

“ No,” she said smiling, “ Its not my turn yet. 
Madame Ucelli is going to sing first and I’m glad 
of it.” 

“ She’s frightfully nervous,” said Paul. “ It’s 
absurd, for I am sure she will be a great suc- 
cess. ” 

“ Oh, you’re just as nervous as she is, senator,” 
observed the painter Yalbelle, who had just 
joined the group, “ one would think you were 
the debutante’s husband ?” 

Etiennette blushed. Le Tessier looked an- 
noyed and made no reply. He extended his arm 
to the girl and led her away. 

“You annoyed them,” said Lestrange to the 
painter. “ You shouldn’t have said that. It’s 
quite serious between them. There’s a rumor of 
a marriage soon.” 

“ That’s precisely what’s so annoying,” replied 
Yalbelle. “ What right has a busy political man 
to confiscate a pretty girl like that ? She was 
certainly intended for us, like her pretty sister 
Suzanne. And now they’re going to make of her 
a virtuous wife, devoted to her matter-of-fact 
Senator. I’m going to hiss ! ” 

8 


114 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


“Yes,” assented Lestrange as if in a reverie. 
“She’s perfectly ravishing to-night in her pale 
blue gauze dress and puffed sleeves, and her hair 
arranged so prettily a la Japonaise. She has an 

exquisite little figure ” And they began to 

discuss the young woman’s good points as if she 
were a young race horse and they were calculat- 
ing her chances in life’s handicap. They did not 
lower their voices and anyone passing could over- 
hear their remarks. Then they changed the con- 
versation and spoke of the reception and the con- 
cert. 

“To think,” said Valbelle in a disgusted tone, 
“that this is the best they can do at a private re- 
ception ! For fifteen days the papers have been 
talking of the wonderful ball-room and the private 
theatre and the gracious hostess. I don’t see 
that its anything out of the common.” 

“ Bah !” exclaimed Lestrange. “There are no 
more receptions worth attending. The thing has 
been done to death. But look, ’ he added, “our 
hostess is certainly as glorious a creature as ever.” 

Leaning on Maxime de Chantel’s arm, Maud 
was conversing with that inseparable couple, 
Mme. Ucelli and Cecile Ambre. Cecile was 
dressed in a simple gown of white muslin, high at 
the neck and with her hair plaited at the back of 
her head like a Louis XVI wig. The Italian 
woman wore an Empire gown, her shoulders and 
half her bust bare. Maxime had on a new coat 
made by Wasse, the celebrated tailor, but he still 
had a provincial air, owing to a lack of fashion in 
the rest of his raiment. He was pale and looked 
still thinner after his sojourn in the country. At 
the present moment, he had no other eyes or 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


115 


thoughts than for the adorable creature whose 
hand was now resting on hi3 arm. His joy at the 
victory now assured was plainly depicted upon his 
face. Maud seemed absent-minded and preoccu- 
pied and her dark blue eyes, which always ap- 
peared darker when her proud spirit was in 
travail, were black as night. She talked and lis- 
tened and although apparently indifferent now to 
the effect of her beauty, she looked the queen of 
the crowd about her — a being of another and 
higher and nobler race, born to dominate and to 
be obeyed. 

From her pale forehead crowned with bur- 
nished auburn hair down to the sole of her dainty 
foot, which peeped out beneath her white silk 
gown, every line in her body seemed perfect. 
Hers was one of those divinely molded forms on 
which all draperies cling gracefully, and the 
white silk material of her gown entwined its folds 
about her body as the amorous sea weed around 
a white siren emerging from the waves. The 
total absence of jewelry enhanced her patrician 
beauty. 

“ Yes,” murmured Lestrange, “ she’s like a 
goddess.’’ 

He remained silent, conjuring up one of the 
most poignant memories of his chequered past — 
a moment of folly which had remained a secret 
between Maud and himself, and in which he also 
had tried to taste the lips of this irritated Diana. 
The mysterious recollection of the senses made 
him start as if his wrist were still bleeding from 
the exasperated bite which had made him release 
her. 

“ Madame Ucelli’s going to sing,” exclaimed the 


116 


THE DEMI VIRGINS. 


painter. “ Let’s get closer ; it’s worth while.” 

The ladies were already resuming their seats, 
as the first chords were struck by Cecile Ambre. 
The Italian woman was standing by the piano, 
facing the audience — an enormous statue of flesh, 
indecent in its monstrosity and soft whiteness. 

She sang an impassioned poem by Holmes, an 
invocation to Eros, master of the world. Sudden- 
ly this strange woman had become animated, trans- 
figured by the flame of Art. Her eyes, lips, and 
gestures were no longer hers ; she had become a 
priestess of love, drunk with incense, burning 
with perfumes, holding up to the god of sorrow- 
ful delights her lips dry from the thirst of kisses. 
Her pure and thrilling voice sounded like the 
strains of an antique ’cello. It seemed to have a 
soul — a soul in the throes of passion, and her 
cries sounded like kisses, caresses, sighs of desire 
or of satiation. The spectators had heard these 
stanzas of Holmes many times before, and yet 
they struck their ears to-night like strange music, 
arousing all the animalism lurking in each one’s 
heart, making the young girls blush, and the 
women sigh, and inflaming the eyes of the men. 

She uttered the supreme cry, “ Eros , ouvre-moi 
les cieux ! " with such a poignancy and passion 
that the entire audience shuddered, and uncon- 
scious voices from their convulsed throats spoke 
their inner souls. Then, overcome herself, she 
sank in the arms of Cecile Ambre and several mu- 
sicians ran to assist her. 

“That woman sings with her sex!” exclaimed 
some one behind Lestrange. It was Hector Le 
Tessier. 

“Did you notice,” observed Valbelle, “that all 


the demi-virgins. 1] 7 

tlie time she sang she looked in the same direc- 
tion ? ” 

Lestrange and Le Tessier turned and saw that 
the eyes of the singer were still riveted on Julien 
de Suberceaux, who was standing against the 
wall, handsome as one of Balzac’s heroes, dressed 
like them, impassible and silent. Seated near him 
almost at his feet, was the pretty Juliette Avrezac, 
who had been separated from her mother and all 
the other ladies. Her languishing, amorous eyes 
watched his every movement and seemed to be 
longing for his notice. 

“ It’s a great thing for a man to be as strikingly 
handsome as he is,” thought Hector. “ If there 
were a manly soul beneath that face, he could rule 
the world.” 

At that moment Jacqueline de Bouvre, on Dr. 
Krauss’s arm, passed the group of three men and 
giving Lestrange an ironical look, she made a 
sign to Hector to approach. 

“ Stoop down, Monsieur Le Tessier. You are 
too tall for my confidence.” And with her mouth 
to the young man’s ear, she whispered: 

“ Now that Eros has overcome Madame Ucelli, 
your little sister-in-law is going to sing. She is 
horribly nervous. Don’t leave this spot, and ap- 
plaud as much as you can. Maxime de Chantel is 
on the other side of the hall according to Maud’s 
orders, and he is ready to kill anyone who doesn’t 
applaud.” 

“You can count on me,” replied Hector, and 
then with one of those gestures common to paint- 
ers, he sketched in the air the rounded form of 
the young girl. “ Very nice,” he said smiling, 


118 


'ME DEMI* VIRGINS. 


“ quite a figure ! I should never have thought it 
so — well, it’s very nice.” 

“ You naughty man ! ” exclaimed Jacqueline. 
“I’m the thinnest there. Ask the doctor.” 

“ Mademoiselle Jacqueline disturbs me more 
than any other of my patients,” replied Dr. Krauss 
with a smile. 

“ You see,” laughed Jacqueline, “ even the doc- 
tor is in love with me. Unfortunately, he tells us 
all the same thing.” 

She tripped lightly away, leaving Dr. Krauss 
with Hector. Suddenly the buzz of conversa- 
tion ceased. Etiennette Duroy had made her 
entrance on the stage, advancing on the arm of 
the famous pianist Spitzer. Neither Hector nor 
Maxime had to encourage the audience. It ap- 
plauded at once, even before the debutante began, 
so pretty and sympathetic did she look in her sim- 
ple little pale blue gown, setting off her round and 
plump figure. Flushed with emotion, Etiennette 
tuned her guitar to Spitzer’s chords. Then amid 
the friendly silence of the spectators she began to 
sing. Her voice was a trifle uncertain at first and 
veiled by nervousness, but she soon grew bolder, 
and the audience was not long in discovering that 
they were listening to an artiste. 

She sang ballads which went admirably to the 
accompaniment of her guitar and the piano — 
sweet and old fashioned ballads of centuries gone, 
of the time of Amy Robsart and of Jane Eyre, the 
time of square pianos, of young men in boots fol- 
lowed by their tiger, post chaises, emirs, the 
period of “Les Orientates, ” and the child of the 
miracle. She made these cynical and blase Paris- 
ians live once more in an age of romance, poetry 


'IHE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


119 


and faith. By degrees, the enthusiasm gained 
the entire auditorium and every one applauded 
wildly. The women threw the young singer their 
bouquets and when she came down from the stage, 
flushed and happy, they quarreled as to who 
should kiss her first. 

Paul Le Tessier was waiting for her in Jacque- 
line’s room, which had been converted into a 
dressing-room. She threw herself into his out- 
stretched arms, and he kissed her on both cheeks. 

“ Are you pleased ?” she murmured looking up 
at him shyly. 

“ Yes darling ; you are an artiste.” He added : 
“ But this artiste shall never become the property 
of the public.” 

They exchanged a look which sealed their 
future. 

“ You are very good,” said Etiennette. “ You love 
me as I like to be loved. I feel so lonely — and it 
was so dreadful to sing here before everybody, 
knowing that mamma is so ill. Now you must go. 
You com£>romise me. Some one’s coming !” 

Mme. de Bouvre, looking almost handsome 
in a gown of black velvet with silver spangles, 
Maud, Mme. Ucelli and the Reversiers, came 
in a crowd to congratulate the young girl. Paul 
had already disappeared. Re-entering the con- 
cert room, he met Julien de Suberceaux who was 
wandering about alone. Paul felt at that mo- 
ment the happiest of men and was over bubbling 
with good will to everybody. He shook Julien’s 
hand wdth effusion, but was immediately chilled 
by the young man’s cold and irresponsive look. 
Then, as he drew near the buffet he overheard a 
bit of conversation between the novelist Espiens 


120 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


and Valbelle who were surrounded by a group of 
ministerial attacbees. 

“ Do you know/’ some one was saying, “ what 
the little Duroy girl said to her protector Paul 
Le Tessier when she came down from the stage ?” 

“ No.” 

“ ‘ Oh, Monsieur Le Tessier, how I wish my 
mother were here ! She’s always been so proud 
of my sister Suzanne !’ ” 

The listeners burst into laughter, and as Paul 
went by, he felt inclined to fall on the slanderers 
and give them the punishment they deserved. 
But what was the good ? It was the false wit of 
Paris — slanderous, merciless, despising honest 
effort, joyful at downfalls, hostile to all who try 
to rise. “ Never mind, ” he thought, “ I’ll 
marry her.” And the joy of avenging the brave 
little girl and making these men sorry for what 
they said, warmed his heart. 

An idea of Maud’s had been to replace the buf- 
fet by little tables scattered all over the dining 
room and adjacent to the smoking room, which 
had been decorated like a Norman inn. The 
guests sat down in sympathetic groups and 
called the waiters as if they were in a restaurant. 

“ This is society’s latest fad. The young mar- 
ried women and unmarried girls sit in couples or 
in parties of four playing the cocotte, which 
ydeases them hugely, and indulgent mammas and 
husbands look on indifferently.” 

So remarked Hector Le Tessier to Aaron who, 
with his screwed up, short sighted eyes, was 
looking for Maud among the noisy crowd. 

“ Have you seen Mademoiselle de Rouvre ?” he 
asked Lestrange, -who was passing. 


tfHU DI2M1- VIRGINS. 121 

*‘ I'm looking for lier myself —if you mean 
Jacqueline. 

“ No, Maud.” 

“ Well, you have considerable nerve to want to 
take her from her two bodyguards. Have you 
noticed them ? It’s an amusing comedy now, and 
it may develop into a tragedy,” said Hector seri- 
ously.” 

“ Fiddlesticks ! ” exclaimed the banker. “ There 
are no tragedies of love, nowadays. There are 
no passions ; only appetites. There is no jeal- 
ousy ; only wounded vanity.” 

“ Are these epigrams of yours original Mon- 
sieur Aaron ?” inquired Hector with a very serious 
countenance. 

“ Eh — of course ! ” replied the banker sus- 
pecting the irony. 

Mme. Ucelli passed in and out of the groups, 
urging those at the supper tables to make haste. 

“ Come, come ! Come to the concert room. 
Mademoiselle Ambre is going to sing some fin- 
de-siecle songs the songs she used to sing at the 
Duchess’. Come — they are worth hearing. Come 
quickly ! She’s just beginning !’* 

The piano was heard again in the concert room 
and everyone went back to his seat. Accompan- 
ied by Mme. Ucelli, the young singer sang a 
few of those fantastic and so-called comic songs 
which have been a fad in Paris for the last five 
years and which will doubtless surprise our de- 
scendants by their inanity. The Duchess’ friend 
sang according to the fashion, stiff and motion- 
less, without a gesture, without moving a muscle 
of her face, and almost without moving her lips. 

The songs pleased, and every one applaud- 


m 


THE DEMI -VIRGINS. 


ed, Mme. Ucelli giving the signal. Mile. 
Ambre did not bow. She seated herself tran- 
quilly while the Italian woman showered brilliant 
variations on the key board. It was a little pre- 
arranged interlude. Maud and Jacqueline prof- 
ited by it to pass discreetly among the chairs and 
to call out all the young girls, who rose and fol- 
lowed them. 

“ What’s the matter ?” asked Dr. Krauss of 
Mme. de Reversier, his neighbor. 

“ They are making the girls leave the room. 
It’s always done now in society when they are 
about to sing spicy songs. It’s much more 
proper.” 

“ There is no denying that,” assented Krauss. 

He smiled on seeing the girls leave the room. 
Almost all of them were his patients and in his 
confidence. A few men, young and middle aged, 
and all professional flirts, accompanied them. 
Among them were Lestrange, Hector Le Tessier, 
and the painter Valbelle, who whispered imperti- 
nences into the brown curls of Dora Calvell. 

The exodus was saluted with laughs and ap- 
plause. Before leaving the room, Jacqueline 
turned round on the threshold and cried : 
“ Now you can enjoy your naughty songs all by 
yourselves. Our innocence runs no danger. ” 

Guided by Maud, the noisy flock of white mus- 
lin dresses, driven by four or five dress coats, 
took refuge in the little drawing room where, a 
short time before, Jacqueline and Lestrange had 
held their little conversation during the Borodine 
symphon}'. There were about fifteen of the girls 
and ten of them were pretty. The others, except- 


THE DEMI-VIRG1NS. 


123 


mg one or two who were downright ugly, were 
good looking enough to attract admirers. They 
were all excited at the idea of being shut up in a 
room alone with the men, and the distant refrains 
of the risque songs which they all knew so well 
heated their imagination still more. 

Maud had taken the arm of Jeanne de Chantel, 
whom the lights and music and a little cham- 
pagne given her by Luc Lestrange, had slightly 
dazed. Her old-fashioned gown, her slim girlish 
figure, her chestnut hair tastefully arranged, her 
fresh complexion and her big innocent eyes, made 
her very attractive. 

“ Why didn’t they let us remain in the concert 
room? ” asked Jeanne innocently. “What are they 
going to do ? ” 

Yalbelle quickly answered, “ They’re going to 
turn out the electric lights and the gentlemen are 
going to take the ladies on their knees and kiss 
them as much as they like. Its done every where 
in Parisian society, but,” he added smiling, “ you 
have to be married, Mademoiselle.” 

“He’s joking, dear,” exclaimed Maud, kissing 
the forehead of the child, who had become scarlet. 
“ You know they always sing objectionable songs 
at musicales nowadays and it is far less embarras- 
ing for us if we are not there to listen.” 

“ The songs aren’t objectionable at all,” inter- 
jected Juliette Avrezac, displeased at being sepa- 
rated from Julien. “Cecile told me the pro- 
gramme. She’s going to give ‘ Heloise and Abe- 
lard,’ ‘ The Cab,’ and the ‘ Stanzas of Ronsard.’ — 
I know them all my heart.” 

“ So do I,” confessed Martha Reversier, casting 

down her eyes. 


124 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


And the other girls, Dora Calvell, Madeline de 
Reversier and Jacqueline all cried with bursts of 
laughter: “ I too f I too ! ” 

“ I know ‘ The Cab ’ ” said a very young girl, a 
sister of Mme. Duclerc, “and the ‘Stanzas of 
Ronsard.’ My brother would never let me read 
‘ Heloise and Abelard.’ It must be very naughty ! ” 

“I’ll sing it to you if you like,” volunteered 
Jacqueline. 

“ Oh, please do ! ” exclaimed all the girls. 

“ Well, listen.” 

She ran to the piano and struck up the air be- 
fore Maud, who was evidently very displeased, 
could stop her. Jacqueline had a good voice be- 
sides being a capital mimic and she rendered all 
the verses without losing any of their double 
meaning. The girls giggled and hid their faces 
behind their fans, and the men applauded heart- 
ily, more disturbed, really, than they were willing 
to appear. Their desire was aroused by the con- 
trast between these equivocal songs and the young 
lips which sang them and the virginal ears that 
were listening. 

The girls, excited by the immodesty of the 
songs, leaned with more languor against the men. 
Luc Lestrange, his eyes sparkling, approached 
Jeanne de Chantel. He watched the effect of each 
allusion on her chaste and pensive face. But the 
same smile of good nature and ignorance hovered 
on the child's lips. 

“What a nasty beast!” thought Hector who 
was watching him. He, the hardened cynic, in- 
dulgent to the vices of his associates, recognized 
for the first time the odiousness of this libertine. 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


125 


He perceived it now tlie more, because it threat- 
ened someone who had grown dear to him. 

As Jacqueline finished the last verse amid ap- 
plause, Lestrange turned to Jeanne : 

“ What do you think of the ballad, Mademoi- 
selle?” 

“Charming,” replied Jeanne with'the same ab- 
sent-minded naivete. “Jacqueline sang it very 
well.” 

Lestrange added : “ It would be almost impos- 
sible to sing an improper song more respectably, 
wouldn’t it ? ” 

Jeanne blushed. She did not quite understand 
what Lestrange meant, but she devined that his 
intention was bad. And she immediately experi- 
enced that sensation which the truly innocent 
girl will always feel in the presence of declara- 
tions of love in which there is no tenderness — the 
sensation of fear. At the same time she was 
ashamed of her bare arms and neck, open to the 
bold gaze of this man, and instinctively, she 
looked around for a refuge, for someone to run to. 

Then she saw for the first time, where she was 
and who surrounded her. She understood now 
what these groups of virginal dresses and blase 
dress coats were whispering about, and she de- 
tected the brazen impropriety of it all. The rev- 
elation was sudden and startling, like the awaken- 
ing of the Christian virgin in the house of Suburre. 

Lestrange, mistaking the nature of her emotion, 
continued to talk, his voice agitated. He quitted 
the subject of the song, which was evidently too 
scandalous for Jeanne to comprehend, and after 
a few leading compliments, he once more utilized 
the little speech he knew by heart, from having 


126 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


said it to so many others ! He considered it an 
excellent and infallible method of exciting a girl’s 
nerves and physical sensibility, under the mask 
of admiration and friendship. 

“ How cruel this invention of society is ! ” he 
murmured. “ You and I meet to-night. I’m at- 
tracted to you and for a few brief moments I can 
imagine that your sweet face and form can belong 
to me alone. I can guess what affection and pas- 
sion you reserve for the man whom you’ll one day 
love. And to think that perhaps we shall never 
see each other again, and that another man will 
possess those delicate white hands, those beauti- 
ful pensive eyes, those tempting lips, and all the 
rest of you that I can imagine — ” 

“ Monsieur Lestrange ! ” exclaimed Jeanne, in 
distress. 

She felt that Lestrange had undressed her with 
a look. She felt faint, but he continued, thor- 
oughly aroused himself, a prisoner in his own trap. 

“ This man won’t be me. Yet no one can pre- 
vent me from dreaming of you. As I look at you 
I am sure I shall be able to conjure up your image 
whenever I wish. And then all those exquisite 
joys which you would bestow on another will be 
mine ! There will not be one of your charms which 
I shall not possess — ” 

He had repeated this equivocal speech to dozens 
of young girls sure each time of seeing them trem- 
ble as under an embrace. But this time he was 
not allowed to finish. Hector Le Tessier, passing 
abruptly between him and Mile, de Chantel, put a 
stop to the conversation. 

“ May I escort you back to your mother, Made- 
moiselle ? ” 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


127 


“Oh, please, Monsieur Le Tessier,” she cried, 
thanking him with a look. 

“ Really, my dear Le Tessier — ! ” exclaimed Les- 
trange, greatly incensed. 

Hector looked him straight in the face. “I'll 
see you presently.” 

The scene was lost in the frou frou of the joy- 
ous and noisy exit of the girls. The concert was 
finished and they were arranging the chairs 
alongside the walls for the dance. The crowd 
went towards the buffet. Jeanne, too agitated to 
speak, took the arm of Hector Le Tessier. They 
passed the two salons and reached the ball-room. 
Maxime went up to them. 

“ Do you know where mamma is ? ” Jeanne 
asked, still frightened. 

“ She is with Madame de Rouvre in her room. 
She is lying down. Shall I take you bo her ? ” 

“ Monsieur Le Tessier will take me.” 

In the corridor they found themselves alone for 
a moment. “ Thank you very much,” said Jeanne 
simply, raising her big eyes upon her companion. 
“ I will release you now — and I thank you with all 
my heart.” 

She held out her hand gently, and ready to re- 
lease it if she withdrew it, Hector deposited a 
little kiss on the tip of her gray glove. The 
girl had disappeared before he quite recovered from 
his emotion. He laughed at his own weakness. 

“ What a fool I am ! Here I am quite agitated 
because I rescued a little innocent girl from that 
nasty Lestrange. For certainly, this little goose 
is very white.” 

But something rang softly and sang within him 
in spite of the irony of his words. Then, remem- 


128 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


bering the scene which had just taken place with 
Lestrange, he laughed at the comicality of this 
drawing-room heroism. “To risk a duel for a 
little girl I scarcely know and for whom I don’t 
care a fig is absurd — but really that animal dis- 
gusts me ! ” 

As he entered the Norman cabaret, he found 
himself face to face with Lestrange, on whose face 
he read raillery. 

“ I am at your orders,” he said curtly. 

“My orders !” Lestrange grinned. “A duel 
for your recent little scene ? I don’t suppose you 
say that seriously. I’m not offended, and I don’t 
want to look ridiculous. I had no idea that Made- 
moiselle de Chantel was — ” 

Mademoiselle de Chantel is nothing to me,” in- 
terrupted Le Tessier with irritation. “Let her 
be ! Besides, you are right. I have no reason to 
be angry with you, personally. I’m no better 
than you, and I prize the innocence of the modern 
girl at its true value. However, it is precisely be- 
cause it’s so rare that it is a pity to spoil a pure 
girl when you come across one. One more or 
less is all the same to you, isn’t it ? It is surpris- 
ing to me how you can find any amusement in 
it.” 

“ It doesn’t amuse me so much as you think,” 
replied Lestrange, a shade coming over his face. 
“ I don’t care a cigarette for all these nervous 
little chits. What I do like is enlightening their 
innocence. You understand me — to have seen 
them look amorous by what I say. If afterwards, 
they give themselves to the first comer or get mar- 
ried, become nuns or public characters, I don’t 
care a jot. Ivrauss calls my case a nervous dis- 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


129 


ease. I assure you that I suffer agonies from it, 
like all monomaniacs. One of these girls has 
found it out. She holds me captive and I must 
marry her.” 

There was no doubt about it, the man was sin- 
cere. 

“ The depraved beast,” thought Hector, but he 
was half won by this strange confession. They 
shook hands with that easy camaraderie that 
Parisians have for each other’s vices. 

“Yet how do you account,” asked Le Tessier, 
“ for the fact that with your detestable reputation 
(for you must acknowledge that your reputation 
is detestable) that mothers permit you to as- 
sociate with their daughters? How is it the girls 
themselves talk to you? You never marry and 
you never fall in love and they know it. ” 

“ It’s very easy to understand,” replied Les- 
trange with a cynical smile, “ the mothers would 
feel humiliated if a man, the acknowledged court- 
ier of every young girl, should neglect their 
daughters. As to our dear little demi- virgins — 
I believe you coined that word — you can be sure 
of one thing. Give them twenty good and inno- 
cent books to read and slip in the number one 
disreputable novel, and you may be sure that 
they’ll read that novel first. Well, I myself am a 
disreputable novel, bound in cloth and gilt letters, 
and they all want to read me.” 

The rythmical strains of a waltz suddenly inter- 
rupted their conversation, and elbowed by a joy- 
ous group which was leaving the supper room for 
the ball-room, they entered the large hall, which 
had been entirely cleared for dancing. The 
9 


130 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


mammas were already seated in rows against tlie 
walls. Mme. de Rouvre and Mme. de Chantel 
were under a dais formed at the very end of tlie 
large ball-room with draperies and plants — a sort 
of ante-room in which the mistress of the house, 
out of the way of the dancers, could do the honors 
and at the same time watch the dancers. 

Lestrange led Jacqueline out on the polished 
floor and began to turn with her to Strauss’ sensuous 
strains, and as he bent over her, his blonde mus- 
tache touching her neck, it was impossible to say 
whether the gesture concealed a whisper or a kiss. 
Valbelle, unfaithful to Dora Calvell, had in his 
arms, Martha de Reversier, who was as white as a 
waxen image, and as graceful as a lily, her long 
white gown skimming the floor with an easy 
dashing grace. The little Mme. Duclerc was 
waltzing in the rather close embrace of Henri Es- 
piens. Hector stood apart, leaning against the 
doorway of the corridor where all those who were 
not dancing had taken refuge. He watched the 
company complacently, feasting his eyes on the 
ever changing kaleidoscope formed by the 
women’s multi-colored gowns. He watched his 
little society friends glide past with their youth* 
ful grace — the little odd creatures whose naive 
and perverted minds and faded freshness kept 
him amused and served to spice the pleasures of 
his society life. “ Now they are happy ! ” he 
thought. “ For two hours their nerves have been 
worked upon by sensuous music, Mme. Ucelli’s 
passionate poem, Etiennette’s sentimental ballads, 
the equivocal songs of Cecile and Jacqueline and, 
above all, by the half-wliispered indecencies of 
their escorts. They are at a white heat, their eyes 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


131 


liumicl and their pulses feverish. The waltz came 
just in time to satiate their dear little senses ! Be 
happy, dear little girls ! ” 


“ Why, where have you been, old fellow ? I’ve 
been looking for you for the last two hours !” 

It was Maxime de Chantel. Hector grasped 
his hand smiling. “ Are you quite sure that you 
were looking for me ? I saw you several times, 
but I didn’t like to disturb you.” 

“ Ah, I’m very happy !” replied Maxime with- 
out seeking to justify himself. “Come.” He 
drew him aside to a corner of the corridor. The 
desire of speaking to others of his own happiness 
caused the words to flow fast from his lips. 

“I arrived in Paris yesterday morning,” he 
said. “ And as you may imagine, I went to the 
avenue Kleber directly after lunch. I was hor- 
ribly anxious and apprehensive without knowing 
why. I imagined that she had ceased to care for 
me, that she would receive me as a stranger, or 
perhaps not receive me at all. I assure you that 
for a very little I wouldn’t have gone in at all, but 
would have returned home.” 

“ c Enter ! ’ or ‘ go home ! ’ ” hummed Hector, 
recalling the old song, and regarding Maxime 
with a pity in which there was a shade of jeal- 
ousy, — the envy of a cynic for a man of warm, 
generous impulses. “ But love excuses every- 
thing.” 

“ But of course I rang,” continued Maxime. 

“ They showed me in. My dear fellow, I found 
Maud as I’ve never known her before, entirely 
transformed by her voluntary retirement during 


132 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


my absence, and so good, so kind! She and 
her dear mother, and even that little saucy 
Jacqueline received me like an old friend of the 
family. They were busy preparing for this even - 
ing, everything was topsy-turvy, and they made 
me work with the rest. I climbed up ladders, 
drove in nails and hung curtains. Ah, it was 
true happiness ! We couldn’t talk much, for we 
were never alone. But each time I sought her 
eyes I found them such as I 'love them to be, 
eyes which I now feel are for me, serious, gentle, 
and no longer ironical.” 

“ The Circe !” thought Hector. “ She has com- 
pletely changed my Chantel! She has made a 
gallant upholsterer of my romantic hero ! I 
liked him better as he was before, — with his fe- 
rocious jealousy and his outbursts !” 

Then aloud, he added : “ Did you bring up the 
important question ? What did she say ? For you 
seem decided !” 

“ My life belongs to her ! She can do with it 
what she will. I will never love anyone else. But 
she evaded the subject yesterday.” 

“ The moment was badly chosen,” replied Hec- 
tor smiling. “ One can’t very well discuss such 
matters when climbing on ladders and hanging 
curtains.” 

“ That’s what she thought, doubtless !” said 
Maxime eagerly. “ She put off our interview until 
to-day. But she has been so peculiar since the 
beginning of this evening, that really !” 

He stopped short. A curious vague silence had 
fallen on the ball-room, the orchestra itself was 
more subdued and the dancing had almost ceased. 
Hector and Maxime advanced to the door of the 


THE DEMI-VIRGlNS. 


133 


liall and looked in. Maud de Rouvre and Julien 
de Suberceaux had just entered the ball-room in 
the middle of a waltz. In a moment the curiosity 
and admiration this brilliant couple always evoked, 
especially when together, had caused a large clear 
space to be made around them. It was as if they 
had swept the crowd of dancers before them, and 
now from a corner near the orchestra, everyone 
watched their graceful motions, as, in perfect 
unison they floated over the floor. 

Hector looked at Maxime. The latter said 
nothing, but his cheeks had suddenly become 
ashen. “The old Chantel isn’t dead after all,” 
thought Le Tessier. “ I like him better thus — 
savage and jealous.” 

Maxime’s jealousy required no explanation. The 
two waltzers seemed as if fashioned for each other, 
and one felt instinctively that they loved each 
other. Yet there was nothing suggestive of love 
in their attitude, nothing familiar in the way he 
held her in his arms. Her left hand rested light- 
ly on his shoulder and she held the tips of his 
gloved hand with her right. Yet the synchronism 
and harmony of their every movement was so per- 
fect that they seemed united, merely by this 
slight contact, like those birds that one sees in the 
autumn skies flying together, barely touching 
each other and cradled together in the eddying 
air. Their lips did not seem to be moving and 
yet they were talking. 

“ Are you satisfied with me ? ” asked Suberceaux 
with an ironical coolness. 

“ Only half satisfied ! ” 

“ But I’ve obeyed you haven’t I ? I didn’t dis- 
turb you.” 


134 


THE DEMI-VIRGIN^. 


“ You’re like a spoiled child and sulk all night 
in a corner. Don’t you suppose it was noticed ? ” 

“ What do you mean ? I didn’t leave the little 
Avrezac girl all the evening.” 

“You mean that she didn’t leave you. Her 
eyes were literally gobbling you up all the evening 
— and those of all the other women too. The Ucelli 
woman’s hysterical ecstacies on the stage were all 
for you. And you do look handsome to-night ! ” 

She gave him a quick amorous look which sent 
a breath of color into even Julien’s pale mask. He 
clasped her to him imperceptibly as they turned 
one of the corners. 

“ I worship you,” he murmured. “ My life is in 
your keeping ; do with it what you will.” 

“And I love you,” she answered, the warm 
breath of her passionate words caressing his cheek 
with their soft perfume. “ I love you ! I want 
you ! Let me arrange everything ; don’t be 
jealous. Each time you are tempted, think of our 
room in the rue de Berne. But take care ! We 
are watched.” 

At this evocation of their most poignant caresses, 
— by this sweet mouth which poured out enerva- 
tion and forgetfulness — he had lost for a moment 
his self mastery ; his arm clasped Maud’s waist like 
a lover. It was only for a second, and he restrained 
himself immediately. The waltz was dying away. 

“ Take me back to my place,” said Maud. “We’ll 
see each other to-morrow unless Etiennette’s 
mother is worse. Meantime, think of my lips !” 

They stopped near the dais where the mammas 
were enthroned. Julien bowed to his partner 
who made a slight courtesy. No one, not even the 
cynical and experienced Hector nor even Maxime 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


135 


whose wits had been sharpened by the pangs of 
jealousy, could suspect what this reserved young 
man and modest looking girl had arranged for the 
morrow. 

Maud stayed a few moments with Mme. de 
Rouvre and then, while partners were being chosen 
for the lancers she crossed the ball-room diagonal- 
ly and went up to Maxim e. 

“ Will you give me your arm, Monsieur de Chan- 
ter’ she said to him, “and take me to get the favors 
for the cotillion. I need your help.” 

He hesitated, but obeyed and without replying, 
offered his arm. They made their way through 
the crowd and reached a little room in which the 
dance favors were stored. Maxime stopped, but 
Maud pushed him on. 

“No, not here. Let’s go further. I want to 
speak to you.” 

She preceded him, crossing a short corridor to 
her own room. It was an apartment with three 
windows, and pale green lacquered furniture, 
curious, rare and dainty. Flowers and plants 
were in profusion. Maxime followed, his heart 
beating with a strange emotion. This cosy corner 
of the house was the chapel of his idol. The at- 
mosphere seemed laden with her own perfume, 
an odor of amber and fern, and another un- 
known essence, together with the exhalations of 
her hair and skin. It was there that she dressed, 
there that she slept. He was taken with a sudden 
dizziness, like a man who has drunk a quantity of 
wine and goes out suddenly into the open air. 
The attitude that his jealousy of a moment before 
had caused him to assume, was gone. 

Maud said simply: “We shall be quiet here; 


136 


THE DEMI -VIRGINS. 


no one will disturb us. I would never consent, 
like mamma and Jacqueline, to give up the pri- 
vacy of my own room to strangers — even on the 
night of a ball.” 

These words, which showed that the girl re- 
garded him as a privileged being, put the last 
healing touches to Maxime’s sorely tried heart. 
He sat down as she directed him, on a reclining 
chair covered with cushions. She took a seat 
near him. A small bureau covered with a thou- 
sand and one objects essential to a woman’s dress- 
ing table, separated them. The shaded silver 
lamp, an admirable piece of Renaissance carving 
was placed on a chiffonier near the bed and illu- 
minated a small circle vividly, leaving the rest of 
the room bathed in comparative obscurity. 

“You see I have kept my word,” said Maud. 
“ I promised you a few moments private interview. 
We shall be quite alone here. If I delayed it 
long, don’t think it was by a caprice. I did not 
wish to speak to you of serious things until we 
had met in society again.” 

" No — ” interrupted Maxime. 

“ Let me explain. We have not seen much of 
each other, but I have watched you and thought 
of you. I seem to know you well. You think 
you love me — ” 

“ I swear — ! ” 

“ You don’t like my phrase ? I will change it. 
You love me, — in your way, that is to say with a 
basis of rancor against me and against the incli- 
nation which draws you towards me. Do not say 
no. You are angry because you love a Parisian 
girl, a society girl, and it sufficed for you to see 
me once more in society for all your rancor to re- 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


137 


awaken. You doubted me just now because I 
was dancing with an old friend whom I’ve known 
since I was a child.” 

She paused a moment. Her reproach made 
Maxime lower his head. He appeared in his own 
eyes as a culprit unworthy of pardon and yet how 
sweet his contrition seemed to him ! 

“ You doubt me because I waltz with one of 
our guests, during a ball at our own house. 
And you have not as yet the slightest right over 
me ! If I gave you such a right, to what use 
would you put it ? Can’t you understand why I 
hesitate to take you for my master ?” 

Maxime replied in a low tone : • 

“ I love you — so much ! You cannot imagine 
how much ! But I hold in horror the people I 
see around you !” 

“ The people around me? You know well that 
I estimate them at their true value. But this is 
not a seignorial manor in Poitou. We are in 
Paris and when in Paris we must associate with 
Parisians and do as they do. I ask you, is it my 
fault if Parisian society is so mixed and equiv- 
ocal ? Naturally, once married, my ways of living 
will depend on the man I marry, as now, it de- 
pends on my family. But I am not willing that 
any man should think he was endangering him- 
self or degrading himself by marrying me. You 
can’t blame me. It is perhaps foolish and mis- 
placed pride, but I want to be taken with eyes 
shut. It seems to me I’m worth that.” 

She rose as she said these last words, which her 
burning self-esteem, so often corroded by the 
ironical doubt of the world, rendered sincere. She 
appeared so haughty to Maxime that he felt his 


138 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


own insignificance. He perceived, perhaps, that 
he might lose her, and the agonizing pang of des- 
pair which pierced his heart at the thought, 
showed him how much she was necessary to him. 

He rose also and stammered : 

“ I never said and have never thought anything 
of the kind. I respect you and I believe in you. 
I humbly pray you not to repulse me.” 

“ I have still something else to say,” interrupted 
Maud without softening the severity of her look. 
“I said to you just now that the happiness of my 
life as a wife would depend upon my husband. If 
my husband compels me to live far away from the 
» world, I shall obey, but I do not know if I shall 
be happy. My tastes have been educated up to a 
certain standard of luxury and to an atmosphere 
of art and wit, which it seems to me, I can find 
only in Paris. If I were taken aw r ay from Paris 
forever, I should, perhaps, be out of my element, 
like those birds of our colonies which perish here. 
I might not be happy and you know if one suffers 
another suffers also. Think it all over,” she add- 
ed, her voice gradually softening. And she ex- 
tended her hands to Maxime, who took them in 
his and bent over them, not daring to look up at 
her. Then, in a voice so full of passion that she 
felt the echoes trembling in her own heart, he 
said : 

“ Pm yours without conditions and as you will. 
I’m your slave, your property. If you refuse to 
be my wife — oh, let me know it now ! I cannot 
bear this suspense ! If you say no, I think it will 
kill me. But this agony of suspense is worse 
than death.” 

He had slipped to her feet, bending one knee on 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


139 


the carpet. She allowed him to retain her hands, 
which he placed against his face, but she did not 
attempt to raise him. 

“ I beseech you ! For God’s sake have pity ! ” 

Still standing in the same position and without 
a trace of emotion in her voice, she replied slowly: 
“I first demand from you absolute faith, such 
faith as you have in your mother or in your 
sister.” 

And he repeated after her : “ I have faith in 
you — as in my mother or in my sister.” 

Then Maud slowly raised him. He dare not 
look at her to read the sentence in her eyes. She 
asked: “And your mother and sister — have you 
spoken to them of a possible marriage with me ? 
What do they think of it? ” 

“ My mother and Jeanne are such simple be- 
ings that they stand rather in awe of you. Per- 
haps they are startled at the presumption of a 
simple countryman like myself, venturing to raise 
his eyes to a society queen. I suppose so, for 
they haven’t questioned me and I haven’t told 
them of my plans. But I swear to you that both 
of them respect you as they should, and will love 
the woman that I select.” 

“Then,” said Maud simply, “let Madame de 
Chantel come to-morrow and demand my hand in 
marriage from my mother. I promise to be your 
wife.” 

As Maxime stood dumb and motionless before 
her, under the shock of this sudden happiness, she 
extended her forehead slowly, gravely. He 
touched it with his lips, and not till then did he 
find strength to clasp her against his breast, and 
stammer out a few words of affection. This time 


140 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


he did not feel her strive to get away, or recoil un- 
der his embrace, for Maud, with a supreme effort, 
had mastered her nerves and dominated her sen- 
ses. She was at once angered at their rebellion 
at this one kiss of the betrothal, and horrified at 
the divided affections that seemed looming in the 
distance ! But her mind was fully made up. 

They went back to the ball-room to the impro- 
vised little tent where all the intimates of the house 
were gathered. Mine, de Chantel was seated with 
Mine, de Kouvre. The two Le Tessiers were talk- 
ing with Etiennette. Directly Hector saw the 
faces of Maud and Maxime he understood how 
matters had gone. He admired Maud for the 
triumph she had just won, and he envied Maxime 
for his defeat. “ To be the husband of that unique 
woman,” he thought, “ is well worth years of jeal- 
ousy, months of agony, and the final pistol shot! 
Happy are the blind and the insane ! ” Maxime 
approached Jeanne and kissed her with effu- 
sion, and she too comprehended. Hector noticed 
that her eyes filled with tears, which were instant- 
ly forced back. Paul observed nothing. He was 
watching Etiennette, thoroughly enjoying the 
kind of spring-time which a man feels blooming 
in himself when he has passed forty, and love sud- 
denly surprises him. “ Silly old chap ! ” Hector 
thought with his brotherly and ironical affection, 
“fancy being as foolish at his age, as my fiery 
‘ soldier peasant.’ ” At heart he envied his brother 
too. “Evidently, I am the only one that can re- 
sist,” he said. But he did not care to look into 
his own heart too closely, and refused to take no- 
tice of the tender emotion that was welling up 
there at the sight of the love scenes around him, 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


141 


blossoming so strangely in the desert of a ball- 
room. The hour was growing late and the dan- 
cers, thoroughly tired out, were resting. It was 
the repose which precedes the cotillion. Jacque- 
line and Suberceaux who were to lead,, were 
superintending the arrangements of the chairs. 

“ Look/’ said Hector to Maxime, “ what an ex- 
cellent opportunity this is to measure the innocence 
of every young girl. Some have gone into inac- 
cessible corners with their escorts. Dora Calvell, 
Madame Duclerc’s sister, and the littlo Reversier 
girls have no intention of dancing. They simply 
use the cotillion as a pretext for sitting apart and 
flirting. The others who are eager to get in the 
front rank and who fight for their chairs, are the 
good girls, anxious to romp and perspire. Those 
are the ones whom you should marry quickly, be- 
fore they begin to look for the dark corners, for, 
sooner or later, they’ll end by doing so ! ” 

Chantel smiled, his thoughts elsewhere. At 
this moment, Joseph, one of the men-servants, 
crossed the hall, and going up to Maud, whis- 
pered a few words in her ear. When he had fin- 
ished, Maud inquired aloud: “Are there any 
carriages downstairs ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, Mademoiselle.” 

“Have one drive up to the door.” 

She ran over and whispered something to Eti- 
ennette who grew suddenly very pale, and the two 
girls left the room immediately, followed by Paul 
Le Tessier. This incident, unperceived by the 
other guests, had caused the conversation around 
Mme. de Rouvre to cease. “What’s the matter?” 
asked the latter of Jeanne de Chantel “Did you 
hear what it was ?” 


142 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


‘‘ No madame. But I think it was about that 
young lady’s mother. When Mademoiselle Maud 
spoke to her she said, ‘ Oh, Good God, my 
mother ! ’ ” 

“ That’s bad news,” said Hector. “ The poor 
woman is doomed !” 

Maud re-entered and they questioned her. 
“ Yes, it’s her mother. She is dying ; a neighbor 
came to fetch Etiennette.” 

“ Her mother !” cried Jeanne de Chantel. “ Sum- 
moned to a death bed while in the midst of a 
ball ! How horrible ! Is the poor girl going all 
alone? Suppose we go with her ?’’ 

“Etiennette isn’t alone with her mother,” re- 
plied Maud. “ There’s a servant in the house, 
a sister of charity, and the neighbor who came to 
fetch her. We could do nothing. She didn’t 
even want Paul Le Tessier to go with her.” 

Julien de Suberceaux reappeared with Jacque- 
line, a knot of ribbons at his buttonhole and rub- 
bing the drum and shaking the castenets of a 
tambourine. The orchestra struck up the strains 
of a fashionable operetta, and the selected couples 
began to waltz in the steps of the leaders. As 
Julien passed near Maud, she rose and retained 
him, saying in a whisper but loud enough to be 
heard by Maxime : 

" Don’t give us any favors. Monsieur Chantel 
and I do not care to dance.” 

Then in* a lower tone, with that inarticulate 
voice and immovable lips which they always used 
to speak to each other in public, she added : 

“ Etie'nnette’s mother is dying. We can’t meet 
at her house. I will go to the rue de la Baume 
to-morrow morning. I must see you !” 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


143 


Julien acquiesced with his eyes. Maud re- 
seated herself near Maxime who gave her a 
grateful look for having sacrificed for his sake, 
the pleasures of the cotillion. 


III. 


If only from its composite furnishings, strati- 
fied, so to speak, with successive periods of for- 
tune, the room in which Mathilde Duroy lay in 
agony, might have acquainted any casual observer 
with the chequeyed and adventurous life of the 
dying woman. Superstitious, like most women of 
her class, she had never parted willingly from 
any one of the articles which had been her com- 
panions in the past. These purchases, gifts, and re- 
membrances had, therefore, accumulated year after 
year, according as times were prosperous or other- 
wise, and had been carefully treasured, together 
with the faded plush and imitation Turkish furni- 
ture which represented Mathilde’s ideal of com- 
fort and which Etiennette, far more refined in her 
tastes, had vainly endeavored to banish. Over 
the mantel-piece, hung with blue plush and orna- 
mented with a cheap bronze clock, was an old- 
fashioned daguerrotype in a black oval frame, 
showing a faded and almost defaced portrait of a 
little girl in her white communion dress, fresh 
looking and smiling as the hawthorne flower. 
Each morning and evening Mathilde said her 

144 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


145 


prayers before this relic of her childhood’s inno- 
cence. 

Two other and more recent photographs deco- 
rated the angles of the room — one of Mathilde’s 
mother, a peasant in a breton bonnet, the 
other her husband, for Mathilde had been married 
to a Parisian mechanic. The only remembrance, 
however, that remained of her marriage was this 
portrait and the wild Suzanne. The mechanic 
had died young and the pretty widow found a 
comforter immediately afterwards — indeed almost 
on the way to the cemetery. A book case in the 
style of Boule, in marqueted rose wood, indicated 
how she was at first provided. Then, by degrees, 
more artistic acquaintances left behind as remem- 
brances three admirable Louis IV arm chairs, 
carved and gilded and upholstered in pure silk 
gobelin — furniture made in the Government fac- 
tories and intended as presents for foreign princes. 
A few framed sketches here and there represented 
a young woman in a low necked dress, the upper 
part of her bust bare. In her youth Mathilde 
had been celebrated for her shoulders and arms. 
More than once, in the corner of the sketches, as 
on the frontispiece of several of the novels packed 
away in the Boule bookcase, this dedication oc- 
curred, subscribed by celebrated signatures : “ To 
the kind-hearted Mathilde — from her friend.” 

The kind-hearted Mathilde! “Kind-hearted” 
had been her surname all her life — a vain and 
senseless kind-heartedness displaying alternately 
the most reckless prodigality and the closest avar- 
ice, forever preoccupied in amassing a fortune and 
suddenly squandering all her savings for some 
10 


146 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


foolish caprice, sometimes even in a fit of charity. 
It would be difficult to say what would have be- 
come of her if, for twenty years of her life, she 
had not enjoyed the liberal and easy going friend- 
ship of M. Asquin. The monarchist deputy rather 
enjoyed, when he came to Paris, finding a kind of 
family in a mistress who was still good looking, 
and the sweet little Etiennette who had been well 
brought up at the Picpus convent and who called 
him papa. The deputy’s sudden death was a rude 
awakening to the poor woman, from that slumber 
of puerile confidence in which almost all such 
women live. The blow aggravated her malady 
which forty years of dissipation had practically 
rendered incurable, and Mathilde became very ill. 
Suzanne brought a little money into the house, 
but it was little Etiennette, who averted a ca- 
tastrophe. 

Etiennette had left the Picpus convent on 
Asquin’s death, when she was just seventeen. 
On the day of her birth, her father, always practi- 
cal and charitable even in his dissipations, had 
taken out an insurance policy in her interest, for 
a sum of about 7,000 francs, which, twenty years 
later, would constitute a marriage portion of 
20,000 francs. The immediate future was there- 
fore, assured on the condition of their leading a 
modest and quiet life. While going through her 
two years’ course at the Conservatoire, Etiennette 
paid off her mother’s debts and rented and furnished 
the little apartment of the rue de Berne. In this 
manner her policy was entirely discounted three 
years in advance. Educated away from home by 
her father’s wish, and leaving the convent only 
when he was in Paris, Etiennette had not been in- 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


147 


fluenced directly by the equivocal situation of her 
mother and sister. Mathilde’s illness and Su- 
zanne’s elopement followed soon after her leaving 
the convent. Yet in these few months she saw 
only too much of the life they led. The revelation 
changed her from a child into a woman and her 
resolution to lead a good life, which saved her 
while at the Conservatoire where so many girls 
take their first lesson in vice, doubtless came from 
that. 

The friends of “the kind-hearted Mathilde” 
visited her assiduously during the first few months 
of her illness. But a sick woman of pleasure 
has no longer any reason to exist. Very few 
came now to the rue de Berne, and for months, 
the two Le Tessiers were the only callers. Then 
Hector came more seldom, and Paul remained 
the only frequent visitor. He found in Etiennette 
the exquisite attraction which a young girl has 
for a man when she is pretty and unguarded. 
Such is the selfishness of Paris in presence of the 
illness of those who, like courtesans and sick ar- 
tists, no longer served its pleasure. 

Yet Paul, as Etiennette had said to Maud, was 
only selfish on the surface; or rather his selfish- 
ness was vulnerable. The suffering of a being 
who loved him would have tortured him. Twenty 
times on seeing the young girl so courageous in 
the struggle against poverty, he had offered to 
help her, protesting that he would ask nothing 
in exchange ; and he was sincere. His heart con- 
tained those dregs of affection which after forty 
years rise to the surface in the hearts of dissipa- 
ted men, 


148 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


But Etiennette refused. She would take noth- 
ing from him, simply because she had begun 
to love him. Certainly, her tranquil senses did 
not yearn for love. Paul had won her by his 
constant] presence, by finding each day a few 
hours for her in one of the busiest lives in Paris. 
She reserved for him the special tenderness of 
chaste women who are only willing to give their 
bodies as a sign of supreme trust. But, for that 
very reason, she refused to accept from him 
money, because she knew how much it soils love. 

Paul gave way to the charm of this disinter- 
ested affection. He glided into it little by little ; 
one hardly ever escapes, especially at such an 
age. By degrees, he could not imagine Etien- 
nette outside his life ; yet how could she stay in 
it, if he did not marry her ? In truth, he exag- 
gerated to himself the obstinacy of her resistance. 
He did not suspect that Etiennette, instructed 
by all the intrigues she had seen around her, 
longed to remain a virtuous woman, without hav- 
ing much faith in her ability to do so. If she 
had confessed to him her secret wish, it would 
have been to succeed as an artist, to earn her own 
living, and then give herself to him without a 
condition ; and Paul Le Tessier’s selfishness 
might have accepted. But she said nothing, 
not from cleverness, but from real modesty. And 
Paul accustomed himself to the idea that he 
would marry her one day, later, when he had re- 
tired from official and society life. Insensibly, 
he tried to draw this time closer. “ Why not 
soon ?” he would say to himself. “ The mother 
can’t last longer than a year, and the sister has 
disappeared.” Such are the arguments which the 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


149 


best among us uses to influence his commonplace 
heroism ! 

It was almost dawn when Etiennette reached 
home. 

“Madame’s a little better,” said the maid when 
she opened the door. “ She’s asleep.” 

Throwing her opera cloak on a chair, Etiennette 
hastened to her mother’s room. As she entered 
she almost ran into the doctor who was just 
coming out. He was a middle aged man, robust 
and full blooded, and he eyed Etiennette’s fresh 
young face and decollete shoulders with the in- 
terest of a connoisseur. 

“ Is this young lady the daughter ?” he asked 
the nurse. The woman nodded. 

“ Well, madame, — I should say mademoiselle,” 
he smiled amiably, “ I’ve seen the patient.” Then 
he added gravely : “ I suppose you know the 
case is serious — in fact, I can’t tell exactly ” 

“ Tell me, doctor,” Etiennette asked quickly, 
“is there no hope? Tell me frankly.” 

He hesitated for a moment and then replied 
firmly : “ Since you are so courageous, you may 
know. I can be of no use here. All you can do 
is to sit at the bed-side and wait. Your mother 
will not suffer much and will pass away quietly.” 

Etiennette stood motionless and made no an- 
swer. Emotion choked her utterance and yet 
she could not cry. 

“ Shall I go — for a priest ?” asked Mme. Gra- 
vier, their neighbor, who had come in. 

“ Yes,” Etiennette said in a low tone and then 
she entered the death chamber. 

Mathilde lay outstretched on the bed. Her 


150 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


face, framed in a pretty and very white night cap, 
was thin, and pale as discolored wax. Her few 
straggling locks were of a strange hue, the gray 
showing under the faded bleaching. An inter- 
mittent trembling agitated her features, and her 
face wore an expression of unspeakable weariness, 
distress, and even hostility. An inarticulate mur- 
mur seemed to veil the words which issued from 
her half open lips. The young girl took the 
short fat hand of her mother and pressed it 
against her forehead. 

“ Mamma’s going to die !” 

Assuredly this thought had never before 
reached that mysterious frontier where the idea 
of another’s death affects the feelings. Etiennette 
felt horribly sad, but her tears would not flow. 
A finger placed upon her bare shoulder made her 
look round. The nurse and Mme. Gravier were 
behind her. 

“ I’m going to the chapel in the rue de Turin,” 
said Mme. Gravier, “ it will soon be six o’clock. 
They’re sure to be up now.” 

She kissed Etiennette and left the room. The 
nurse, a big boned, mature woman, turned to the 
girl and said : “ Shall I help you to undress, Mad- 

emoiselle ? If the cure saw you like that — ” 

Not till then did Etiennette remember that she 
was still in her ball dress. She quickly unfas- 
tened her bodice, and slipping off her skirt, put on 
a wrapper. Then she went and sat down at the 
foot of the bed. She fixed her eyes on the closed 
eyelids of the dying woman and waited. The 
nurse resumed her seat on the reclining chair and 
after munching a piece of chocolate, went off to 
sleep. Etiennette was glad to be left alone. 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


151 


The death agony of the sleeper was already be- 
ginning. Her breath came with difficulty, and 
the shrunken right hand tried feebly to draw up 
the counterpane. The lips trembled and moved 
as if endeavoring to deliver a voluble discourse. 
Etiennette could just catch a few inarticulate 
words : “ Money ” — “ death ” — “ Maurice ” — “ As- 

quin.” Then came phrases without sense. “ She 
wouldn’t — wouldn’t say why she went.” And 
for a long time her voice mumbled a string of 
unrecognizable words. 

Etiennette felt that she was more nervous than 
grieved. “ Why don’t I cry ? ” she thought — “ I’m 
certainly sorry.” Then, as if to force her tears, 
she said to herself, “ I shall be all alone in the 
world.” True, poor Mathilde had not made the 
house very gay for a long time. Yet it was her 
mother; she was of her flesh and blood. “Alone ! I 
shall not have a soul in the world ! ” The tears 
came at this call of human egoism. “ What will 
become of me ? I haven’t a soul in the world.” 
Then the figure and voice of Paul Le Tessier 
crossed her mind. “I wish he were here. He 
wanted to come. Why didn’t I let him ? ” She 
felt that when her mother was gone, she would 
take refuge in the arms of this friend, let him do 
what he would with her, the only condition being 
that he kept her with him and did not leave her 
alone in the world. 

“ Oh, I’ve had enough of men ! ” 

The dying woman, whose trembling has begun 
again, uttered these words with startling dis- 
tinctness. Etiennette was as frightened as if a 
corpse or a phantom had spoken. Yet she was 
perfectly familiar with this phrase which poor 


152 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


Matliilde always used when things went wrong. 
It expressed in its brevity all her disgust at her 
calling, her horror of the relations of the sexes, 
her desire for a revolt of her sex. 

“ Oh, I’ve had enough of men ! ” 

The words returned continually amid the dying 
woman’s unintelligible mutterings. Sometimes they 
were so indistinct as to be hardly heard, but Etien- 
nette recognized them each time by the formation 
of her mother’s lips, and they terrified her. “I 
hope the nurse won’t hear her.” But the nurse 
was snoring peacefully. Etiennette rose and 
standing over the bed, murmured: “Mamma!” 
Then she tried to take the shriveled hand which 
was moving up and down the counterpane, but 
she let it fall immediately, stifling a cry, for the 
hand had grasped hers in a death grip and the 
long sharp nails had dug into her soft and tender 
flesh. And still among the confusion of syllables, 
came those horrible words: 

“ Oh, I’ve had enough of men ! ” 

Falling on her knees beside the bed and stop- 
ping her ears so as not to hear, Etiennette be- 
gan to pray. She had been as pious as most girls, 
the easy going and attractive piety which they 
teach in the convents, so superficial and unprofit- 
able. But in two years time, the cruel breath of 
reality had swept away everything. Even the 
morning and evening prayer, even the least 
troublesome practices of religion had been neg- 
lected. But her present sorrow and her fear of 
being left alone in the world revived the words of 
piety on the young girl’s lips. “ O, Mary, full of 
grace, I salute thee ! O, most merciful Virgin, do 
not forget me ! ” and with devout reverence, the 


the! demi-virgins. 


153 


unbelieving hands made once more the almost for- 
gotten sign of the Holy Cross. Sacred and 
blessed Beligion, that its most feeble echo can 
still console any wretched mortal invoking its 
aid ! 

There was a noise in the room, and Etiennette 
started to her feet. A priest had just entered, fol- 
lowed by Mme. Gravier, and while the latter, as- 
sisted by the nurse, prepared the oils for the Holy 
Sacrament, the man of God approached the bed. 
He took the dying woman’s hand and said, “ My 
dear daughter, can you hear me ? ” 

Etiennette listened for the reply, with the priest, 
and she heard the echo of the horrible phrase 
which she alone recognized: 

“Oh, I’ve had enough of men ! ” 

“I’ve been called very late,” said the priest 
severely. He was thin and short, with curly gray 
hair and a fantastic surplice in fine cashmere. 

“ Make way,” he said to the sobbing child. 
Etiennette went over to the other side of the 
room where the nurse and Mme. Gravier were 
kneeling. She too kneeled down and tried to 
pray. The priest murmured the words of the 
sacrament : “ Misereatur tui omnipotens Deus — 
Indulgentiam, absolutionem et remissionem pec- 
catorum.” His Latin orison, chanted in a stri- 
dent key, mingled now with the dying woman’s 
hoarse and indistinct mutterings. Etiennette 
could still distinguish the same desperate excla- 
mation; 

“ Oh, I’ve had enough of men ! ” 

The sacrament administered, the priest said a 
short prayer by the side of the dying woman and 
then led Etiennette into the drawing room. He 


154 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS, 


spoke to her sternly as if irritated to see her look- 
ing so pretty in the midst of death. 

“ Was yonr mother religious, my child? ” 

“ I think so, Monsieur l'abbe. She used to say 
her prayers morning and evening.” 

“Did she attend sacrament?” 

Etiennette hesitated — ‘‘I don’t think so,” she 
replied. 

“We must pray for her, my child,” he said. 

“ God is very merciful, but he gives nothing to 
those who ask for nothing.” After a silence he 
added : “ Have you any other relatives ? ” 

Etiennette blushed so quickly that the priest 
understood and pardoned the falsehood of her re- 
ply, “No, sir.” He even seemed to soften a little. 

“Poor child,” he murmured, “the Lord take 
you in his keeping. So you are all alone in the 
world ! If you ever need consolation, come to the 
rue de Turin and ask for Father de Rigny.” 

Murmuring her thanks, Etiennette escorted the 
priest to the front door. As she was passing 
through the drawing room again, she heard a loud 
cry. She ran to the bedroom and found Mme. de 
Gravier and the nurse kneeling down reciting the 
De profundis. Etiennette sank down near them 
and wept unrestrainedly. 

Gradually her sobs ceased. When she rose she 
saw with surprise that they had drawn the cur- 
tains of the windows, through which streamed a 
flood of bright spring sunlight. Mathilde’s eyes 
were closed and her face has resumed in death the 
good-natured look it bore in life. 

Yielding to the persuasion of her kind neigh- 
bor, about eight o’clock Etiennette swallowed dis- 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


155 


tractedly, a cup of coffee. Slie was in the dining 
room when Ursula, her little maid of all work, en- 
tered and whispered : 

“ The young lady’s come. She’s with Monsieur 
Paul.” 

The “young lady ” was the name by which Ursula 
designated the elegant and mysterious visitor who 
for the past two months had had frequent inter- 
views in Suzanne’s old room with a visitor equal- 
ly elegant and mysterious whom Ursula called 
“the gentleman.” 

Etiennette flushed at this reference to the favor 
she had done Maud and she felt a reluctance to 
see her friend at the present time. She could 
permit no more of these clandestine appoint- 
ments. Her mother’s death, although so unex- 
pected, had strengthened her in her decision to 
live honestly and independently. Her maidenly 
modesty was in arms against those irregularities 
which she had hitherto considered as inevitable, 
but which in her bereavement, now seemed re- 
pugnant. 

“ What shall I say, Mademoiselle ? ” asked the 
girl. 

“ Say I’ll be there in a moment.” 

When she joined Maud and Le Tessier in the 
parlor, both kissed her tear stained cheeks affec- 
tionately. 

“ What do you intend to do ?” asked Maud. 

Etiennette shook her head as if undecided and 
discouraged. 

“ Now listen, my dear girl,” said Paul Le Tes- 
sier. “Maud and I are both of opinion that you 
cannot remain alone in this house. This, there- 
fore, is what I propose, in accordance with the 


15G 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


wishes of Maud and her mother. Oh, he easy,” 
he added, seeing a refusal rising to Etiennette’s 
lips, “ I haven’t the slightest intention of offering 
you charity, although you know you can always 
count upon me as if I were a brother. Madame 
de Rouvre is going to spend a month at Cham- 
blais, with Maud and Jacqueline ” 

“ You can guess why,” interrupted Maud. 
“ That’s the only way of calming the jealousy of a 
certain person you know. Besides, I detest Paris 
now. Will you come with us ? The invitation 
comes from mamma and myself, so you’ve no 
reason to refuse.” 

Etiennette did not reply at once. Her natural 
intelligence and experience of the world at once 
said to her : “ Paul evidently wants to make me 
his wife. And Maud is afraid of Suberceaux if 
she stays in Paris. So the projected trip to the 
country suits everyone. All the same,” she 
thought, “ it was very kind to have invited me.” 

She kissed Maud. “ I accept, darling, and 
thank you very much.” 

And as Paul, in turn, kissed her, she felt so 
comforted by his embrace that she thought, more 
tenderly than ever : “ He’s very fond of me. It’s 
nice to be loved. Dear, good Paul!” 


IV. 


Julien de Suberceaux bad left tbe ball-room at 
tbe close of the cotillion, just as supper was an- 
nounced. It was Maud’s wish. She had whispered 
to him in a tone of command : “ Go, as soon as 
possible. I’ll come soon. ” And she knew that 
with such a promise he would obey. 

He went to his apartment on foot, traversing 
the broad avenues which at that early hour were 
as peaceful as the road-ways of a forest. It was 
a beautiful spring morning and the beauty of the 
colors in the eastern sky, the freshness of the air, 
and the music of the larks soon dissipated the 
dark forebodings which had hung upon him all 
night. “ She’s coming! — she’s coming ! ” he sang 
to himself, as he strode along, and his joy at the 
appointment she had given him would permit his 
thoughts to dwell on nothing else. 

It was still night in the little apartment in the 
rue de la Baume. The blinds were drawn and 
the gas lighted ; his valet, wrapped 'up in a blan- 
ket was fast asleep on a sofa in the ante-chamber. 
Suberceaux woke him. 

“Light the gas in my bath-room, Constant.” 

167 


158 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


“ Will Monsieur go to bed ? ” asked the valet, 
stifling a yawn. 

“ No — I don’t know. Do as I tell you.” 

Taking his master’s stick, cloak and hat, Con- 
stant preceded Julien into the parlor, faintly 
lighted by the remnants of a fire, and began to 
open the windows. 

“ Don’t open those shutters,’’ said Suberceaux, 
sharply. “ Light the gas.” 

The dark, warm and silent look about his rooms 
when he came in had pleased him, and he wished 
to keep them thus until Maud should come. A 
few moments later, he was alone in his bath- 
room. He never permitted Constant to help him 
undress. He felt that instinctive horror of the 
contact of men, that peculiar modesty of being 
seen by them and in seeing them, which belongs 
to some men. But on his own supple body, with 
its harmonious lines, graceful movements, well- 
developed muscles and soft white skin he loved to 
dwell. 

He paid to his body that minute care and con- 
stant attention which seems absurd to most men 
and which they regard as a sign of effeminacy. It 
is not always so. Luxury and strength are often 
allied, and so it was with Julien. The elaborate 
set of toilet articles on his dressing table — nail 
polishers, pincers, scissors, brushes of horsehair, 
skin and velvet and tortoise shell combs with gold 
monogram ; the complicated and elegant bath 
tub and douche whose nickel and brass plate 
shone under the naked gas flame ; the fine qual- 
ity of the embroidered linen from the bath robe 
to the nail serviettes ; the innumerable quantity 
of cut glass bottles with silver tops; all this arse- 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


159 


nal was intended for the beautifying of a mascu- 
line body. Many men despise these effeminate 
luxuries and chaff unmercifully those who indulge 
in them. But, although a dandy, no one was 
fonder of vigorous exercise and athletics than 
this apparently effeminate man ; none more brave 
in front of a pistol or a sword. Julien was, by 
nature, arrogant and aggressive with men ; women 
alone could master him and lead him like a child. 

Attired in a silk shirt and a tweed suit, he 
passed into the bed-room where he seized a pair of 
heavy dumbells from off the floor. For several 
minutes he wielded them with the grace and ease 
of a trained athlete, until, satisfied with the sup- 
ple play of his muscles, he laid the bells down, 
and went into the parlor. Two lighted lamps 
threw a softened light over a picturesque disorder 
of bibelots, sofas, settees, pictures and hangings. 
Julien looked at his watch — five minutes past 
eight. He rang for his valet. 

“ Constant, I expect Madame will come present- 
ly. You will prepare the samovar in the dining 
room and put a few cakes on the table. Then you 
will go up to your own room and remain there till 
I ring for you.” 

Constant bowed and left the room. Julien sat 
down on the sofa, gathered the soft pillows under 
his head, stretched himself out and began to 
dream. 

“She’s coming!” He tried to imagine her 
drawing aside the heavy Turkish portieres which 
concealed the door. “ Yet no ! ” The picture 
changed. It was the third floor of a dingily fur- 
nished house in the rue de Berne, the cozy nest 
Maud had arranged in Suzanne’s old room. In 


160 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


the interval between Chanters departure and re- 
turn, he had met her there regularly almost every 
other day, for Maud knew this was the only way 
to keep him docile; besides, she was hot loath to 
feel his hot kisses on her cheek. Yet, theoreti- 
cally, Maud was a chaste girl; she had never been 
Julien’s mistress. A kind of religious loyalty 
prompted her to jealously reserve herself for the 
man who was going to give her his name and his 
fortune; and in the pride of her superiority she 
thought: “ Maxim e will still remain my debtor.” 

The peculiar relations between the young girl 
and Suberceaux are not uncommon in a degener- 
ate society whose manners and doctrines are at 
direct variance, although professedly harmonious. 
They felt for each other all the passion of which 
human love is capable, but Maud’s superior will 
invariably enabled her to restrain Julien’s ar- 
dor. So blissful, indeed, were the few stolen 
minutes when they could be in each other’s arms, 
that neither cared to dispel the illusion. Julien 
thought each time that he was about to achieve a 
complete conquest, and each time she left him in- 
toxicated and satisfied with the little he had re- 
ceived. So, through the months of February and 
March, he had lived in a sort of amorous trance in 
which there was no care for the morrow. 

Stretched out, his eyes closed, his dream took 
on fantastic hues. Voluptuous evocations mingled 
with unpleasant memories, the pangs of jealousy 
tortured him, a weight hung on his heart, a weight 
of melancholy and rancor. Live without her ! 
Impossible. Better to die — better never to see 
the sun, the bright clear mornings, the days of 
snow, the illuminated evenings of Paris. All was 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


161 


confused; lie plunged into the great uncertain 
night in which desperate men seek forgetfulness 
of the unbearable. The horrible evening just 
passed was still heavy on his heart. Then as if 
having touched the bottom of the abyss, he ascen- 
ded slowly towards the light of life, his heart grew 
buoyant, a vapor of languor enveloped him. His 
brain and his body were pervaded with a vague 
and delicious feeling — he half opened his eyes, 
the dream had become a reality. Maud was 
standing near him, her bare fingers placed on his 
forehead. 

He rose. 

“Ah, — you! — Pardon me — I stretched myself 
out there and 1 think I must have fallen asleep. 
But something told me you were there and it 
made me feel happy.” 

“You must have had bad dreams, for your face 
was contracted and distorted. I laid my finger 
upon your forehead and conducted your dream to 
me!” 

She pressed her fresh lips against his forehead; 
then, avoiding the embrace which he was seeking, 
said: 

“ But why is it all closed here ? Do you know 
it’s past nine? Open the windows.” 

“No, O no,” begged her lover, “I'm so fond of 
this kind of light.” 

“ Nonsense, open them at once. Don’t you see,” 
she added smiling, “that I am dressed for the 
day?” 

Her half jesting words concealed genuine awk- 
wardness at finding herself in this room, lighted 
up as if it were night, when she herself was dressed 

11 


162 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


for the street. She had on a gown of blue chev- 
iot trimmed with velvet, and a little blue astrak- 
han hat with a wdiite veil. 

Julien obeyed regretfully. He opened the 
windows and pushed back the shutters, while 
Maud turned down the lamps. The daylight en- 
tered, soft and warm, chasing away the mysterious 
ghostly vapor which floated around the globes. 

" Good,” said Maud. “ Now, sit down near me. 
I have a deal to tell you. First of all, Mathilde 
is dead.” 

“Ah,” said Suberceaux, “ that’s too bad. AYe 
shan’t be able to ” 

“ She died this morning about seven o’clock,” 
interrupted Maud, not noticing his selfish inter- 
jection. “ She had already lost consciousness 
when they came to fetch Etiennette. Paul Le 
Tessier and I got there about eight. Poor Paul 
was as grieved about her death as if he were of 
the family.” 

Preoccupied with his one thought, Julien 
asked : “ So we shall have to meet here ? Or 
shall I look for another place ?’* 

“ What a child !” interrupted Maud, holding 
out her bare wrist to be kissed. “ One can’t 
talk seriously to you. You are not listening to 
me.” And after a silence during which she had 
avoided her lover’s eyes, she added in a weary 
tone which was not customary to her : 

“ Now you must be very good to-day. If you 
knew how nervous I feel.” She leaned her head 
against Julien’s shoulder, and softened by the 
thought of the pain she was going to inflict, she 
unbuttoned his silk collar and placed her lips on 
the hollow of his neck. 


THE DEMI-VIR6INS. 


163 


“ Come !” lie implored, half rising. 

“ No,” she said seriously. “ I’m here this morn- 
ing to talk of very important things. Can you 
guess what it is ? I have authorized Monsieur 
de Chantel to come this afternoon and ask my 
hand in marriage.” 

“Ah!” said Julien. He wondered that the 
news did not pain him, and Maud was also sur- 
prised to see him so calm. She continued : 

“ It seems to both of us now that we have de- 
cided upon this step that it would be well to ter- 
minate the matter as soon as possible. We shall 
be married before the end of April.” 

Julien felt a dull anguish slowly rise in his 
heart. It was almost imperceptible as yet, but 
each moment it grew stronger. He made no reply. 
Maud continued : 

“ Until then, you understand, I shall have to 
guard against the voice of slander. My marriage 
of course, will excite a great deal of envy among 
women who wish me no good. Maxime knows 
nobody, and cares to see nobody but myself. 
There is, therefore, no danger in his remaining in 
Paris. But I shall go and spend a month with 
mamma and Jacqueline at Chamblais. Oh, I shall 
come into Paris almost every day, you under- 
stand,” she continued, taking Julien’s hands — “ I 
shall have to look after my trousseau, my gowns, 
and everything. But officially, I shall live at 
Chamblais and Etiennette will spend the first 
few weeks of her mourning with us there. We 
shall be as at home ; the Le Tessiers will come as 

visitors only. I think it’s an excellent plan 

What’s the matter ?” 

Julien had risen at the last words and, still 


164 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


silent, walked up and down the room. The an- 
guish had risen to his throat and nearly choked 
him. He turned and stopped in front of Maud. 

“ So — it’s done.” 

“ Yes,” said Maud calmly, “ in theory, it’s done. 
I don’t think it can surprise you.” 

She spoke boldly, her eyes fixed on his, in that 
proud attitude which she always assumed whenever 
anyone presumed to question her will. But Julien 
seemed to have no idea of offering any resistance. 
He had seated himself on the corner of the table, 
sad and crushed. She watched him for a mo- 
ment, standing on the defensive. Then, as he 
said nothing and did not stir, she tried to en- 
courage him as she had done often before. Ap- 
proaching him, she said in a low voice : 

“ Be brave ! I love you alone !” 

Buried in his thoughts, he doubtless did not 
hear her, for he stammered : “ It isn’t possible !” 

The horrible anguish had pierced his heart like 
a knife, and for the first time the marriage of 
this woman with another man and consented to 
by him, appeared to him an unnatural and mon- 
strous thing. It was too monstrous to be true. 

“ What do you mean ?” asked Maud. 

He repeated with a shudder : “ It isn’t possible. 
We can’t do that.” He passed his hand over his 
brow, as if endeavoring to throw off some horri- 
ble nightmare. 

“ It isn’t possible !” he repeated a third time, in 
a voice which signified neither a command nor a 
prayer, but the simple expression of a fact. “ Think 
Maud, how I love you — you are all I have in the 
world — and you love me — I’m sure that you 
love me, and I, — I am your slave. I am yours 


THE DEMI -VIRGINS. 


165 


alone. I can’t live without you. We have been 
out of our senses — we have deceived ourselves.” 

Maud replied almost coldly : “ I am not out of 
my senses. It is you who are insane.” 

“ But can’t you understand,” he insisted, “ that 
what you are going to give to another is what is 
most precious in you. You’ll be his wife. You 
will give him what is mine. You love me, you 
belong to me. It’s clear enough — clear as day.” 
Drawing nearer to her and firing as he spoke, he 
went on, the intensity of his passion choking his 
utterance : 

“ We have both been mad — you, and I. I will 
not — I will not let another have you when I have 
never had you! It shall not be! Let 4 me keep 
you ; I will change my life, I will work — I, too, 
will make you a queen, and worship you far more 
than that imbecile who cannot understand you. 
You smile ! Ah, I shall know how to work when 
you are the prize I am striving for. I’ll do I 
don’t care what, but I’ll keep you. I’ll rob, I’ll 
kill, but I’ll keep you. Ah, stay with me,— stay 
with me. You must — you must !” 

He sank at her feet, kissing her dress, and 
burying his forehead in its folds. He did not 
cry, but tearless sobs convulsed his frame. Then 
he felt Maud’s hand pushing him away from her, 
firmly, and with all the force of her contracted 
nerves. Hurt in his pride, and comprehending 
that he had lost everything by supplication, he 
rose. 

“ Is it ended ?” Maud asked in a tone of disdain. 

“It is not ended,” said Julien fiercely. “ What 
is ended is this comedy of marriage. It shall not 
take place, — never — do you understand ? A man 


166 


THE DEMI-VIRGIN'S. 


can’t be played with as you’re playing with me. 
I won’t have it,” he continued, maddened by 
Maud’s ironical silence. “ I won’t consent to 
have been a mere plaything for your convenience,” 
he gasped with anger and the words choked in 
his throat. 

“ You wretch !” 

She struck him squarely across the mouth. 
But Julien seized her hand, pressed it against his 
lips and with the other arm encircled her waist. 
He held her rebellious and struggling form close 
against him as he muttered between his clenched 
teeth and so close to her face that she felt his lips 
touching her cheek : 

“No — it shall not be ! You must be mine ! Did 
you really think that I would let you go ? Never 
— you are mine ! I will have you even by force ! ” 

“ O you coward ! ’’ cried Maud. “ Let me go ! ” 

He grasped her tighter and she felt herself car- 
ried to the other side of the room. The cruel in- 
sult of his violence stung her pride, so that at the 
moment she hated him. She defended herself, 
wildly, with her teeth and nails, not even knowing 
what she was doing — the instinctive struggle of a 
woman against force. Suberceaux, maddened 
with jealousy and passion, seemed nearly out of 
his mind; he was goaded to a point of frenzy, 
and he put forth his whole strength, utterly 
unmindful of her bites and scratches. Suddenly, 
Maud gave a scream. Her hand, which Julien 
was pressing against her neck, bore against the 
pin of her brooch, tearing the skin. Suberceaux, 
sobered immediately, let her go. It was only for 
a second, but when he attempted to seize her 
again, she was at the other end of the room, be- 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


167 


liind a barricade which she had formed of the 
furniture. 

“ Maud — ! ” he gasped, panting and beside 
himself. But he did not dare to approach 
her, struck still by the little stream of blood 
on her white skin, which soon covered the 
entire back of the hand. 

Without losing him from sight, Maud opened 
the window. “ I swear to you,” she cried, tremb- 
ling with anger, “that if you approach me — I’ll 
jump out of this window. If I kill myself, so 
much the worse ! But I won’t kill myself — it isn’t 
high enough. I shall get away from you, but I’ll 
never see you again — never, I swear it ! ” 

He made a step towards her, uttering a cry of 
terror. She had stepped on to the window sill. 

“ Great god, Maud ! ” was all he could say. 

“ Do you believe me now ? ” she said, already 
for the leap. 

He drew back, and sank down on the sofa, his 
face buried in his hands. He was conquered ; he 
loved her too much ! She had acquired a fright- 
ful empire over him ; and he had to obey. Tears 
like those which a woman sheds on being saved 
from some peril, sprang to his eyes. 

When he dared to raise his head, Maud was 
standing calmly beside him. Once more she 
placed her hand on his forehead, to give him 
peace — the adorable hand which he had wounded 
so cruelly. 

“ Maud — my life ! ” His strength was gone, to- 
gether with his will and even his desire. He sim- 
ply wanted now to keep her near him — to take 
what she would consent to give him. 

“Are you good now? ” she murmured. “Very 


1(38 


THE DEMI -VIRGINS. 


well, I will pardon you.” Kneeling down beside 
him, she gave him a long kiss on the lips, taking 
away the last of the little strength he had remain- 
ing. “Believe me,” she said to him, “it is for the 
best. Let me arrange your life as my own. I 
love you alone. ” 

She rose, and drew on her gloves. He would 
have followed her. 

“ No, stay there,” she commanded. “ Adieu ! 
Don’t come to the house. I’ll write to you.” 

He obeyed. 

When Constant came down stairs about twelve 
o’clock, uneasy at not having been summoned by 
his master, he found Julien still lying on the 
lounge. 

“ Has monsieur slept a little ? ” 

“Yes, Constant. Leave me. When I want 
some lunch I’ll ring.” 

But he had not slept. After Maud’s departure, 
he had remained where she left him, overcome by 
his thoughts, every nerve in his body vibrating. 
He suffered. In vain he tried to rouse himself, 
to call up the old words by which Maud had first 
led captive his will; “The world belongs to the 
strong — we must bridle and lead inferior beings 
like animals.” In vain he said to himself: “I was 
before that man — I have had from her caresses 
which he will never have.” His rebellious jeal- 
ousy replied to him, “Yes — but she will be his 
wife,” and the horrible idea of Maud being pos- 
sessed by another, caused him to writhe as upon 
the rack. No argument, no theory could soothe 
him. In spite of his suffering, he remained in- 
credulous to conventional laws. He still could not 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


169 


recognize the truth that was the secret of his suf- 
fering, that there is a natural morality, a morality 
even in passion, and that there exists an evil and 
a good in human love. In his agony, his tortured 
soul, blindly and beyond his own volition had 
made a violent and desperate appeal to that moral 
law which he had so many times denied ! 


THE THIRD PART. 


L 


“ Are you awake ?” 

“ Yes, come in dear.” 

Closing the door behind her, Etiennette slipped 
over to the bed where Maud still lay and kissed 
her warmly. They caressed each other with that 
demonstrative affection which pretty women wil- 
lingly display towards each other when the ab- 
sence of men removes all competition. Since 
they had been living together at Chamblais, their 
friendship, begun in the old convent days, had 
grown warmer by the exchange of secrets, mutual 
confessions of their hopes, and the knowledge of 
each others anxieties. Both girls, Maud so reso- 
lute in her projects, Etiennette, whose experience 
had been so bitter in life, had retained the sim- 
ple friendship of their girlhood. Anyone over- 
hearing their tete-a-tetes could not have helped 
admiring, most of the time, the innocence and 
adorable naivete of their talk. 


170 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


171 


After they had exchanged a profusion of kisses, 
their daily chatter began with compliments on 
each other’s looks and discussion about toilettes 
and gowns. 

“You should always wear black,” said Maud, 
eyeing her friend approvingly. “ Nothing suits 
your hair and complexion so well. You have 
such beautiful hair ! Those braids of yours look 
like new gold.” 

She took one and placed it on her pillow amid 
the picturesque disorder of her own darker 
tresses. 

“Just look — mine seems almost dark. I ought 
never to be seen near you. You completely 
eclipse me.” 

“ Will you be quiet?” replied Etiennette, some- 
what embarrassed. “How can anybody be dis- 
satisfied with hair like yours ? ” 

She passed her fingers through Maud’s soft and 
silky auburn locks, and half opening the front of 
her friend’s nightdress placed her lips on the 
bare white neck. 

“ It is you, darling, who are too pretty — too 
queenly. Compared with you, I look like your 
little maid. But I love you all the same.” 
They kissed each other once more, and then 
fell to discussing new gowns. 

The door of the room opened. It was Betty 
bringing the morning mail. 

“ Have you my letter too, Betty ?” asked Etien- 
nette. 

“Yes, Mademoiselle. You were not in your 
room — so I brought all the letters here. There 
are two for Mademoiselle.” 


172 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


“ Really !” cried Etiennette in surprise. “Who 
can it be from V* 

She expected only one, from Paul Le Tessier. 
He wrote to her every day, even when he came to 
lunch or dine at Cliamblais. She wrote as often, 
happy at being able to prove to herself daily that 
she was not entirely alone in the world. To-day, 
the white envelope bearing the official Senate 
heading was there as usual, but she did not open 
this first. She held between her hesitating fin- 
gers the other envelope. It bore a foreign post 
mark and she fingered it a moment before she 
broke the seal. 

" What’s the matter ?” asked Maud when Betty 
had left the room. “ Who’s it from ?” 

“ O, Suzanne,” replied Etiennette. “It has the 
Amsterdam post mark.” 

“ How annoying ! She might have waited a 
little longer before writing to you.” 

She had expressed Etiennette’s own thought. 
Now that her mother was dead, the only obstacle 
.to her marriage with Paul was this wild sister 
Suzanne, whose name was known in fast society 
all over Europe. Her long absence and her long 
silence, which had not even been broken by Ma- 
thilde’s death, had almost caused her to be for- 
gotten in Paris, which forgets so quickly. Did 
she intend coming back now ? 

“ — I write you from Amsterdam, where I arrived with the 
company. But I have left the stage. I am now with a 
young and well-to-do business man whom I expect to bring 
to Paris. Perhaps we shall be able to induce his brother to 
accompany us. He is rich too, and does nothing, and you 
would suit him exactly. 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


173 


“ I hope mamma is well. If she wants anything she has 
only to write to me at the Hotel Mille-Colonnes. Henry is 
very nice and I have everything I want.” 

There were two incoherent pages in the same 
strain, the verbiage of the cocotte, which grieved 
Etiennette and humiliated her. “ I hope mamma 
is well — Henry has a rich brother and you will 
just suit him.” That was Suzanne’s notion of 
sisterly affection. 

“ I dare not read it to you,” she said to Maud. 
“I wish I hadn’t read it myself.” 

Yet she remembered that she had believed her 
sister dead, carried off by consumption, and she 
felt remorse at having accepted that hypothesis 
without grief, and perhaps with relief. After all, 
Suzanne was all that remained of the old days 
when they used to play together as children, both 
innocent of the world. 

She said aloud : “ Poor little thing ! I’m glad 
I’ve heard from her, in spite of all. Her health 
is so bad. If she could only become a good 
woman ! She’s a good girl at heart.” 

Even in this offer which had shocked Etiennette 
so much just now, the poor girl showed her good 
will. One is charitable according to one’s ability, 
according to one’s situation and one’s morals. 
Poor Suzanne ! 

She consulted Maud : “ Ought I tell Paul ?” 

“ No, I shouldn’t. It wouldn’t please him. If 
Suzanne comes back, he’ll learn it soon enough. 
Besides, who knows whether she will return ?” 

Etiennette kissed her friend. “ It’s true. You 
are right. You always see things so clearly — 


174 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


but I weary you with all my private affairs. Have 
you had any news ?” 

“ No, ” replied Maud, letting her opened letters 
fall on the coverlet. “ They are from the uphol- 
sterers and the inevitable Aaron who invites us to 
lunch for the day of the vernissage. That’s all, 
excepting of course, one from Maxime.” 

“And ?” 

“Not a line.” 

“ What day did you write to him ? ” 

“Wednesday.” 

“Nearly a week! Its strange. He must be 
sulking.” 

Maud threw herself back on the pillows, her 
arms sinking down on the coverlet. With a weary 
expression she said : 

“ What can I do ? He can sulk, dear, that’s all. 
He can’t expect me to spend my afternoons with 
him in the rue de la Baume two weeks before my 
marriage. I will have no tyranny. The time I 
demanded is not so long. He must be patient. 
Besides, whether he wishes it or not, I shall keep 
to what I wrote him. I am determined not to go 
out alone any more in Paris. Isn’t the advice I 
gave him the wisest ? Let him take a trip abroad 
— for a month or two. He’s got the money. He 
wins all he likes now at cards. When he comes 
back, all will be over. I shall be the vicomtesse 
de Chantel, and I’ll take care of his future.” 

She waited a few moments for Etiennette’s ap- 
probation. Then, as the latter did not speak, but 
kept her eyes fixed abstractedly on Le Tessier’s let- 
ter which she had just opened, Maud sat up, lean- 
ing her elbow on the pillow. 


THE DEMI- VIRGIN S. 


175 


“ You’re not listening ? ” 

“ Indeed, I am,” said the girl, “ but you know I 
am rather dull in such matters. You always sur- 
prise me. I shall never understand you thor- 
oughly.” 

“ Yet it’s clear enough.” 

“Forgive me, dear,” continued Etiennette, slip- 
ping her arm through Maud’s in her usual coax- 
ing way. “You are right, I know ; it is I who am 
a little simpleton. You see all I desire in the 
world is to be near someone who loves me well, 
whom I love well — I don’t care for the rest. You 
can’t understand that, can you ? I am a child ol 
the people. I could be happy living in the coun- 
try, with three thousand francs a year. So you 
understand, loving Julien as you love him, I 
should have married him. Under your guidance 
Julien, who is idle, but who is not a fool, would 
have made his way in the world. You would not 
have been as rich as the vicomtesse de Chante] 
will be, but you would not have been put to the 
alternative of either being separated from the 
man you love, or of passing your life in an atmos- 
phere of tragedies, for neither of your lovers is 
accomodating. I couldn’t live so ; it is not in my 
nature. I prefer the most tranquil mediocrity.” 

This was said in a quiet, insinuating tone, al- 
most a caress, with that mixture of assurance and 
modesty which was Etiennette’s singular charm. 
Maud listened to her seriously and then replied 
in a changed voice : 

“ What you say is true as regards yourself and 
many others, but it is not true as regards me. Oh, 
don’t think I protend to be superior to you or 


176 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


to anybody. But I feel I could never resign my- 
self to be the wife of a man like Julien, because I 
am determined not to be a declassee. Do you un- 
derstand ? I would rather be a mere cocotte like ” 
— (she was going to say “like your sister,” but 
she caught herself in time) “ so many others who 
have begun in the convent and finished in the 
half-world. I would rather become the avowed 
mistress of ” She checked herself. 

“ Without love ? ” asked Etiennette smiling. 

“Love? ” replied Maud, her lip curling in dis- 
dain. “ What you understand by ‘ love ’ is the 
love of the chimney corner, with a domesticated 
and w’orld-weary husband like Paul, who will take 
you on his knees and fondle you and say tender 
things to you, and for whom, in exchange, you 
will prepare grogs and slippers. Do you know, I 
have a perfect horror of such a life, such love ? 
There is no affection of that kind in my disposi- 
tion. I can’t help it. To be fondled sentimental- 
ly makes me nervous.” 

“But you are fond of Julien?” questioned Et- 
iennette, in surprise. 

Maud rested her two elbows on the edge of the 
bed and said in a low, ardent tone : 

“ Julien ! Ah, it is no common place affection 
that unites us. You say I am fond of him. But 
I’m not. He appears to me precisely as he is — 
mediocre in intelligence, vain, selfish, idle. Ah, 
I know him well ! Yet there is something in him 
that is superior to all other men. He is a far 
more handsome, stronger, more delicate, more 
elegant — more — what can I say ? I don’t know. 
There are no words to express it. He is a nonen- 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 177 

tity, yet the perfect man, or the perfect lover. Do 
you understand ? ” 

She sank back again on the pillows, half closing 
her eyes ; then she continued, more slowly : 

“ All men — even that poor Christeanu who made 
all women, young and old, sigh, disgust me a 
little. Maxime isn’t an ugly man, is he ? Yet I 
feel like biting him each time he kisses me. Jul- 
ien is the only man I feel real passion for. I love 
him, I long for his caresses. I think I desire him 
as men desire us even when they hate us. You 
don’t understand that either, do you ? Perhaps 
you’ll never understand it, just as I don’t under- 
stand love dreams about slippers and grogs. 
Where did I get this temperament ? My mother 
is as calm as a cod fis*h, and Jacqueline is wild 
only in her talk. Papa it is true, was rather fast. 
Or perhaps it descended from some negro, half 
savage, an unknown ancestor of mamma’s. In any 
case, it is not my fault. ” 

She remained silent a moment, then she added: 

“ Do you remember that evening at the house 
when the Belgian chirographist read our hand 
writing? He wrote on mine, ‘very sensual.’ 
And that little imbecile 'of an Espiens, who was 
looking over my shoulder exclaimed ‘ very sen- 
sual.’ I silenced him with a look, but I couldn’t 
help telling him, ‘ it’s nothing to laugh at. If you 
think it’s amusing, you’re mistaken.’ None of them 
knows what it is to have senses. There are mo- 
ments when I am inclined to believe that there are 
only two lovers in Paris — Julien and myself.” 

She remained silent for a long time. Terrified 
at this sudden view of her friend’s soul, Etienne tte 
12 


178 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


thought to herself: “ What emotion she must feel 
to speak like this ! She’s always so careful as to 
what she says. ” But Maud turned round towards 
her and said in her usual tone: 

“ What does the dear senator say ? ” 

“He says that he is coming to lunch this morn- 
ing as agreed upon. Hector will come too, prob- 
ably.” 

“ Of course,” said Maud smiling. “ As Madame 
de Chan tel is bringing Jeanne ! ” 

With a smile on her lips, Etiennette rose and 
kissed Maud. “ Good-bye,” she said. “ I’m going 
to make myself beautiful for my sweetheart.” 

“ Your sweetheart is a lucky man,” said Maud. 
“ Only let me give you a bit of advice. Don’t let 
him flirt too long.” 

Turning on the threshold of the door, Etien- 
nette threw her friend a kiss. “ And remember,” 
added Maud, “ not a word about Suzanne. ” 

She rang for Betty. As soon as the maid came 
with her slippers, Maud jumped out of bed, al- 
lowing her pretty nightdress to fall from her 
shoulders upon the carpet. And while the maid 
prepared her bath, the young girl, tranquilly nude, 
crossed the room and selected herself from the 
bureau drawers the dainty underclothing she in- 
tended to wear. Then, standing before the man- 
tel mirror she amused herself by toying with her 
curls, from which the bright daylight reflected 
like sparkling gold. Her fair white form, from 
the nape of her neck to the delipate feet, was so 
perfect that she seemed a chaste Diana, like unto 
the goddesses of old. 

Then, after she had dipped herself in the water, 
she called the maid and stretched herself out on 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


179 


the bath-room sofa, while Betty, kneeling beside 
her, rubbed her all over lightly with soft fluffy 
towels. Maud was in no hurry for the massage to 
cease. The quick movement of the feminine fin- 
gers was soothing to her senses. “ More, Betty, 
harder.” For a full half hour she lay there 
dreaming, thinking, and planning out her day. Up 
to now, she had kept Julien in bondage, by never 
leaving him sufficient time between two rendez- 
vous for reflection or rebellion. She must now 
change her tactics. Whenever she went to Suber- 
ceaux’s rooms she had a presentiment of being 
watched by hostile eyes. “ It was insane of me,” 
she thought, “ to have returned there, even once, 
since Maxime has been in Paris. Suppose some 
one told him ! ” She found her betrothed gloomy 
at times, uneven, absent-minded, buried in abrupt 
silences. “He must have received anonymous 
letters,” she thought. “I have so many enemies ! 
I have nothing but enemies — that abominable 
Ucelli woman — and Aaron who is enraged at my 
marriage ! — I'm sure both have me watched. 
They are capable of bribing my servants, and 
Betty knows everything.” 

For the first time, she shuddered as she thought 
of the future, and the chances of a catastrophe. 
“ If it falls through this time, it’s the end — my 
life is a failure.” If this marriage did not take 
place, what would become of her? — a downfall, a 
life of chance, uncertainty — the horrible future of 
mediocrity. “Oh, no — never that!” Aaron’s obse- 
quious, cunning face glided into her dream. She 
knew what he wanted. He had even dared to tell 
her one day, when she could not silence him, nor 
refuse to listen to him, She tried in a low voice 


180 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


to insult him, but still she heard him repeating: 
“111 always be your friend. One never knows 
what the future has in store. You’ll always find 
me ready — and you know I’ve always succeeded in 
obtaining what I wish ! ” Oh, the wretch ! This 
cynical declaration had left on her the impression 
of a contact with some impure beast. Yet if this 
marriage fell through, the future was dark. “ We 
are on the eve of a crisis,” she thought. “ The 
creditors don’t bother us much yet, because my 
marriage has been officially announced. But if 
the engagement were broken off, what a rush there 
would be ! ” 

But as she stood half dressed in front of the 
tail gilt mirror, she soon reassured herself. 
“ Both Julien and Maxime are too much my slaves 
to endeavor to free themselves. I hold them too 
fast in my power. Yet others have freed them- 
selves and have forgotten me ! ” She remembered 
those broken engagements as never to be forgotten 
insults. “ It was because I didn’t give myself the 
trouble to be loved,” she thought. 

Betty fastened the last hooks of her dress, a 
long gray cashmere, and Maud, standing at the 
half open window, looked out on the fair surround- 
ings of the chateau. In spite of the early season, the 
breath of summer floated into the room, laden 
with a delicious freshness from the depths of the 
park. Here and there, among the trees, stood 
the white marble statues. What young soul can 
resist the powerful invocation of happiness which 
comes with a warm spring morning? Maud 
smiled, now calm, confident of herself and of the 
future. 

“Ah,” she murmured. “Hector has already 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


181 


come.” He was descending the steps of the ter- 
race, and Jacqueline was following him with an 
open parasol. Almost immediately Paul Le Tes- 
sier came into view with Etiennette. The two coup- 
les followed each other at a short distance. Then 
as Jacqueline and Hector entered the park, the 
senator sat down with Etiennette on one of the 
circular stone benches, scattered around the 
splashing fountain. 

“ Go and see if the Chantels have come,” said 
Maud to the maid. “ I don’t need you any longer.” 

Etiennette and Paul Le Tessier were convers- 
ing affectionately on the bench where, without 
doubt, the dancer heroine and her financier had 
billed and cooed long years before. Paul held 
the girl’s soft hand between his strong fingers, 
telling her of what he had done the day before 
in Paris. 

“That’s all, dear. Everything is settled. At 
your majority, I am to draw twenty thousand 
francs which you profess to owe me for money ad- 
vanced you. I trust you will allow me to add it 
to your trousseau, as the money is yours. The 
difficulties of your mother’s affairs are smoothed 
over. Your sister has given no sign of life since 
your mothers decease and everything leads us to 
suppose that she will not claim her share of the 
inheritance.” 

Etiennette was tempted to interrupt him and to 
tell him of Suzanne.. But she did not dare, and 
from that instant her silence rendered the avowal 
impossible. “The apartment,” he went on, “re- 
mains in your name until the expiration of the 
lease. All my own affairs are in order. I saw 


182 


THE DEMI -VIRGINS. 


Krauss and he has given me a certificate of ill health 
which will permit me to take a three months’ holi- 
day. Together with the annual parliamentary 
vacation, that will give us nearly half a year. We 
will get married in London ; then we will go to 
Vezeris to spend a week with our newly married 
friends, the Chantels; then we’ll return to Paris, 
covered,” he added smiling, “with aristocratic 
perfume by having rubbed shoulders with such 
high provincial nobility.” 

Under this jesting tone, he concealed a plan 
which had been long and carefully thought out. 
He wished to marry Etiennette under the patron- 
age of the Chantels and the de Rouvres, whose 
brilliant names would relegate to the shade the 
origin and associations of his bride. “ There are 
so many Duroys in the world,” he thought, “ Be- 
sides, what does the name of a woman matter the 
day after she is married ? ” 

“ How good you are ! ” murmured Etiennette, 
caressing him with her coaxing eyes. Her smile 
sent over the senator one of those Tvaves of ten- 
derness which rise in the hearts of men of 
forty, an anxious and naive tenderness ready to 
doubt everything and hope everything. His 
voice trembled as he replied: “I love you so 
much. Will you love me a little ? ” 

“ You know well that I love you.” 

“ Yes, she loves me,” he thought, drinking in 
the sweetness of her fair blue eyes and the odor 
of her hair. “ She loves me, but how ? Above 
all, how will she love me ?” A kind of filial affec- 
tion sufficed for him to-day. “ But when I’m her 
husband, will she love me then with her whole 
being, as she would a lover ?” 


THE t)EM I -VIRGINS. 


183 


The tenacious wish tortured him more cruelly 
as he approached possession. He did not care 
for mere affection. What he wanted was to feel 
her young heart palpitate in his embrace. 

Hector and Jacqueline appeared in the distance 
returning from the borders of the pond. Per- 
ceiving his brother, Paul envied his slighter and 
more active figure, his abundant dark hair, his 
juvenile face, his thirty years. “ The animal,” he 
thought to himself almost angrily. “ He spends 
the divine gift of youth in that stupid pastime 
called flirting, instead of finding a woman worthy 
of being loved.” 

The recollection of his own forty-five years so 
distressed him that he forgot for a moment the 
profound affection which united him to his 
brother. Turning to Etiennette, who was silent 
and rather preoccupied, he said : 

“Let us go in.” 

Hector and Jacqueline who had just come from 
a ramble in the wood, looked upon love with far 
different eyes. They had taken a seat on one of 
the stone benches. “If every young girl thought 
as I do, my dear man,” Jacqueline was saying, 
“ there would be another revolution, in miniature, 
like that of ’89 and we should all gain our freedom 
by force.” 

“ What kind of freedom ?” asked the amused 
Hector. 

“ O, the freedom to go out and travel alone, first 
of all ; the freedom to come home at what time 
we like, to come home with the milk wagons if we 
want to. You can’t imagine how it would amuse 
me to go round all night. And the freedom to 


184 


THE DEMI-VIRGIN& 


spend our money as we like, — the freedom to 
have lovers — yes, lovers. You bachelors have 
mistresses !” 

“ The girls of the revolution would make rather 
odd wives, I fancy,” laughed Hector. 

“Why? Don’t you get married, after your 
goings cn have been talked about for years ? It’s 
simply a matter of custom, that’s all. People 
would say ‘Mademoiselle So-and-So was very 
wild as a girl, but it’s just that kind of a girl who 
makes the best wife. It’s better to be gay before 
marriage, than afterwards, etc.’ Isn’t that just 
what they say now about you men ?” 

“Well, perhaps we shall live to see the 
change,” drawled Hector. “ I shouldn’t be sorry.” 

“ Oh, you’ll be too old to j>rofit by it, my dear 
man. You’ll be like the people of the early days 
of the Revolution, who died in 1790 just before 
they could have the pleasure of seeing the aristo- 
crats’ heads cut off. I’ll be dead too. That’s why 
I’m a perfectly virtuous little girl !” 

Hector smiled and pondered. He looked at 
Jacqueline closely, swept with a sudden jealousy 
of Lestrange. “So it’s settled, is it,” he asked 
“ — your marriage with that fair man ?” 

“Are you discreet?” asked Jacqueline with a 
sly laugh. 

“ Too discreet to please some of my contempo- 
raries.” 

“Well, it’s practically settled. I tell you be- 
cause I know it will amuse you. It all hap- 
pened the night before last. I had invited the ‘ fair ’ 
man as you call him, to dinner all alone. 4 1 must 
be allowed to attend to my love affairs from time 
to time/ 1 told mamma. * Everybody in the house 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


185 


does.* Well, I put on the lowest necked dress that 
I could find, and besides I have a secret by which 
when any one is near me he can think only of me. 
Guess w*hat it is ! At the dinner Lestrange nat- 
urally became very much worked up, so much so 
that he couldn’t eat, and didn’t know what people 
were saying to him. Do you know why I like 
him so much? He’s not a handsome man. It’s 
because I can excite him so easily. I set all his 
nerves tingling, he tells me. So do all women ? 
No, not so much as I. After dinner we went into 
the conservatory. It’s a splendid place to flirt in, 
and we sat under the palms at the end. My sis- 
ter was playing Berlioz, and mamma was busy 
with some needle work. Luc and I were entirely 
alone. We talked. I told him that I was quite 
tired of being so virtuous, and that I wanted a 
change. I told him that I had sleepless nights, 
and that I rose each morning enervated and de- 
pressed.” 

“Is it true?” asked Hector, his lips twitching. 

“Yes, quite true. That’s the funny part of it. 
Why,” she exclaimed, bursting into a peal of 
laughter, “ Who would- have thought it ! I seem 
to have upset you, too ! ” She continued : 
“Well, Lestrange couldn’t stand it any longer. 
He took hold of my hands and exclaimed, half 
choking, ‘ Jacqueline ! Jacqueline ! ’ like a boy 
of fifteen. I finally confessed that when I lay 
awake at night I think of him.” 

“ Is that true, also ? ” asked Hector pulling at 
his moustache. 

“Again?” laughed Jacqueline, “Well, I’ll 
have to calm you. My suitor, wearied by my 
resistance, quickly made up his mind. He said : 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


180 

4 Jacqueline, I want you ! You know that I have a 
horror of marriage, yet I am ready to marry you. 
Only I warn you that I am afraid I shall make a 
very bad husband. I must have women’s society, 
and even when married it may be that I shall 
still want to love others. I detest the shackles of 
marriage. Shall you be jealous? ’ I laughed in 
his face. 4 Me jealous? Listen Luc. I will be 
equally frank. I’m not crazy for marriage either. 
I didn’t i nven t it But as women who are not 
married are ostracized by society I have made up 
my mind to marry. So you see how much respect 
I have for the institution. You please me, I 
please you, so let us get married. I think we 
shall get along very well together. We will form 
a partnership. You understand life thoroughly, 
though you’re an awful rake, and so do I, giddy 
as I may seem. Outside of that, there must be 
complete liberty on both sides. I am not silly 
enough to imagine that a man like you, who can- 
not see a petticoat without getting excited, will be- 
come chaste all at once, or be ever faithful after 
the wedding breakfast. On my part — I don’t ask 
better than to be a pearl of fidelity, a regular Bar- 
barine. Still, what can you expect? My little 
experience has shown me that in real life Barba- 
rines are met with very seldom. What is the 
good of promising to resist temptations which I 
don’t even know about. What I do promise you 
formally is to always keep for you wdiat is due 
you, and never to make you ridiculous. Aside 
from that, I must be perfectly free. It is now my 
turn to ask you the same question which you 
asked me. 4 Shall you be jealous ? ’ ” 

44 What did he reply? ” laughed Hector. 


THE DEMI-VIRGIN8. 


187 


“ He reflected a moment, not too long, and then 
said : ‘ You are right. Marriage such as you un- 
derstand it is the only way which will not lead us 
to the divorce courts. You are an exquisite wom- 
an, and I thank you for having proved to me that 
I had to marry you/ Thereupon, in order to seal 
our betrothal, I held out my lips and, considering 
it was the first time they were ever touched by a 
man — what are you laughing at?” — Jacqueline 
broke off suddenly. — “ I swear to you it was the 
first time! — I don’t think I seemed awkward. That 
is all — I must run away now and leave you. Here 
are the Chantels coming. I don’t want the pretty 
Jeanne to scratch my eyes out — for I wager you 
she is and always will be jealous.” 

Without waiting for a reply, she rose quickly and 
went towards the house. He looked after her 
as she tripped along, with a perverse and provok- 
ing grace which her walk accentuated. At the 
same moment on the road which issued from the 
distant wood, appeared a four-seated vehicle in 
which were the Chantels. Hector caught sight of 
Jeanne seated in front, and he pictured to himself 
her black eyes, brilliant as the onyx, fixed upon him 
whom she loved. He knew she loved him now, 
and was rather chagrined at the facility of this 
conquest, which he felt would lead him to the 
marriage altar. He sighed as he thought of this 
death to his liberty but as he went forward to 
meet the carriage, he thought to himself : “ These 
two children, Jeanne and Jacqueline, stand for the 
only two reasonable solutions of contemporary mar- 
riage. If the Christian character of marriage — 
its nobleness, its indissolubility, its fidelity, is to 
be preserved, one must look for the exceptional 


188 


THE DEMJ-VIRGINS. 


woman, for the rara avis, for the little white 
goose, such as Jeanne. If, on the other hand, 
marriage is to be understood in its modern sense, 
with exterior virtue, and interior dissolution, it is 
better to be informed in advance like Lestrange, 
and to come to a mutual understanding. Public 
morals in this way lose nothing, while it is a dis- 
tinct gain to truthfulness.” 

Once in sight of the carriage, Jeanne’s smile, so 
innocent and happy, ravished him. “ Dear little 
girl,” he said to himself. “ I think I really love 
her.” 

The vehicle turned around in front of the ter- 
race of the chateau, making a heavy rut in the 
gravel. Hector held out his hand to Jeanne and 
she sprang down, blushing a rosy red. Mme. de 
Chantel, on the contrary, stiff in the joints, al- 
lowed herself to be almost carried from the car- 
riage to the staircase. Three months spent in 
Paris had not changed her. It was the same vacu- 
ous and aristocratic looking face, the same awk- 
ward and ailing gait, under the eternal provincial 
mourning. Maxime, on Hector’s advice, had pre- 
served his somewhat serious and military style of 
dress, corrected by the cut of a good Parisian 
tailor. But Paris had truly transformed Jeanne. 
She had frequented the rue de la Paix in company 
with Maud, and her eyes, eager with the desire to 
please some one, soon told her in what she differed 
from a Parisienne. Her black and white striped 
satin gown with large white satin revers, edged 
with cut jet, and a large black Gainsborough hat 
trimmed with plumes and violets had effected a 
wonderful change. 

“ Charming,” exclaimed Hector. 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


189 


“ Now you’re laughing at me again,” said Jeanne 
in a chagrined tone. “It’s not nice of you.” 

“ I assure you,” replied the young man, “ that 
you look stunning ! ” 

“ Really,” replied Jeanne her face beaming at 
the compliment, “ I was . so afraid that you wouldn’t 
like it,” she replied ingenuously. “ You see Max- 
ime, Monsieur Le Tessier likes my dress.” 

Maxime smiled ; his thoughts were elsewhere. 
They entered the winter garden in which the 
lunch was spread. Jacqueline, Etiennette and 
Mme. de Rouvre were waiting for them there, with 
Paul Le Tessier. Maud had not come down yet, 
and it was she whom the eyes of the ex-officer 
sought first. He took advantage of the brief in- 
terval when the usual compliments were being 
exchanged to draw Hector aside : “ Where’s 

Maud?” 

“I saw her just now at her bedroom window.” 

“ I have something serious to say to her before 
lunch,” Maxime said, gravely. 

“ Jealous again ? You are incorrigible,” scolded 
Hector gently. How often in the past month he 
had been consulted by Maxime, each time indeed 
the latter had received the anonymous missives of 
which Maud had felt a presentiment. 

“On the contrary,” replied Maxime, “I have 
offended Mademoiselle de Rouvre deeply, and I 
want to apologize.” 

“Well, you are certainly the greatest fiance to 
spring surprises I ever knew. Let us go and 
wait for her in the vestibule. She will be com- 
pelled to pass us when she comes down.” 

They met her on the threshold. She had been 
delayed by stopping to fasten in her belt a 


190 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


double petunia, oddly shaped and the color of 
an orchid. Hector was apprehensive as to the 
issue of the interview, but forced a joke : 

“ Here’s a gentleman, Mademoiselle, who wants 
to interview you, as they say in -the papers. The 
small drawing room is empty and you can talk 
there.” He opened the door of the room with an 
affectation of serious politeness, then drew aside 
and hastened away. Maud felt anxious, but tried 
to appear unconcerned. 

“ What is it, Maxime ? Have you something to 
tell me ?” She summed all her will power so as 
not to betray her fear. Her first thought was : 
“ Julien ! ” 

But Maxime took her hand gravely and kissed 
it : “I beg your pardon,” he said in a low voice 
as if overcome by emotion. “ I have acted un- 
loyally. I am no longer worthy of you.” 

Maud did not understand. “What have you 
done ? Doubted me again ?” 

“ Ah, if you knew what I have suffered by my 
doubts ! But think, — each day since you have 
been at Chamblais, I have received anonymous 
letters telling about you so precisely — they men- 
tion your habits, and such a number of facts 
which I know to be true, such as the dresses you 
wear and the places where you go shopping and 
which you tell me about when I see you — a lot 
of stuff like that — and slander besides !” 

“ And you believe this slander ?” Maud asked 
coldly, withdrawing her hand. 

“Maud!” supplicated Maxime. “I couldn’t 
tell you — don’t condemn me because I’m confess- 
ing now. This is what happened. Listen. Four 
times I have received a type-written letter which 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


191 


said : ‘ This evening about half past five Made- 
moiselle de R will go to the rue de la Baume, 

second door to the right in the street on leaving 

the Avenue, to see her ’ No, I would never 

dare to repeat the infamy to you.” 

“ To see her lover !” added Maud, finishing the 
sentence. “ You might as well repeat the infamy, 
since you believe it !” 

“ I did not believe it ! Four times I destroyed 
the letter and I didn’t even speak of it to you ! 
Yesterday I was insane. I ” 

“ You had me followed ?” 

“No, I went to the rue de la Baume. A little 
before six o’clock, a cab stopped in front of the 
door and a woman with your figure stepped out — 
Cjt least I thought she looked like you. I rushed 
forward, but the door was already closed. Ah, 
Maud, if I have sinned against you — the hour — 
more than an hour — that I spent on that pave- 
ment, along that wall which encloses the garden, 
made me expiate it bitterly !” 

Maud listened, reassured now, but surprised 
and stung by a secret jealousy. “Ah, Julien is 
consoling himself. He is receiving other women 
now ! Continue,” she said to Maxime, “ at what 
hour did I come out ?” 

“ After seven o’clock. When I saw the iron 
door open again, I lost my head, and I sprang 
to meet the woman. I seized her by the 
arm, and forced her to show her face under the 
lantern of the carriage. ” 

“ Who was it ?” asked Maud in such a changed 
voice that she would have betrayed herself to a 
more experienced observer. 


192 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


Maxime hesitated. “ I have no right to name 
her.” 

“ I command you ! I have the right to unmask 
the wretches who have calumniated me.” 

‘"It was a girl whom I saw at your ball — who at- 
tracted attention by the way she conducted her- 
self with Julien de Suberceaux.” 

“ Juliette Avrezac ?” said Maud. 

“ Yes.” 

She remained silent. Maxime watched her 
anxiously, thinking that the anger he saw depic- 
ted on her face, in her eyes, in her contracted 
mouth, was caused by himself ! “ Oh, forgive 

me — ” he said on his knees, with his face in the 
folds of her dress. 

Maud came to herself. “ Rise !” she said sternly. 
“I don’t like a man to kneel. Very well,” she 
added as he recovered himself. “ I consent this 
time to forget. I hope it will be a lesson to you. 
But with such a disposition as yours, I fear for 
the future.” 

He entreated to be permitted to kiss her brow, 
the only place she had ever allowed him to^ kiss 
her since their betrothal. But now, with a dim 
desire for vengeance, a resolve to be false also, 
she gave Maxime her neck, on which he rained 
his burning kisses. Never before had Maxime 
received so much from her, and never before had 
her betrothed’s kisses seemed so distasteful. 


n 


Since the death of Mathilde Duroy and the de- 
parture of Maud for Cliamblais had put an end to 
their interviews, Julien de Suberceaux had hardly 
left his club. He refused all social invitations, 
and avoided the theatres and every place where 
common acquaintances might speak to him of 
Maud or Maxime. He gambled heavily. The 
stakes were high at the time, thanks to two stran- 
gers, two brothers, who risked a Polish village on 
the green cloth each night. The game began at 
five o’clock in the afternoon and did not cease 
until the maitre $ hotel announced dinner, and it 
was resumed before midnight. Suberceaux was 
the first to arrive and the last to depart. His 
luck was marvelous. It was one of those runs of 
luck which are said to come to people condemned 
to die, and which, when he goes home the next 
morning, stupid and dazed, his pockets stuffed 
with bank notes, frightens the player himself. In 
six days, Suberceaux had won nearly three hun- 
dred thousand francs. A dull despair had come 
upon him since Maud had written to him, in the 
veiled language which they used, that their ap- 
13 193 


194 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


pointments must cease until after the marriage ; 
and it was only this singular gambling fever — the 
mystery believed by the strongest minded men, that 
the cards are fatidically arranged for one’s ruin or 
fortune — that could divert his mind. 

Thus passed his nights and the short days 
which followed the leaden slumbers into which he 
fell on his return home towards six o’clock each 
morning. The worst hour of the day for him was 
after dinner, when his friends would leave for the 
theatre or the Opera, or simply — for the even- 
ings were of estival warmth — take a drive to the 
Bois in one of the club’s victorias. He did not 
care for theatres, nor for concert halls, nor for the 
Bois, nor for any place where he might meet 
people who would remind him of Maud and Chan- 
tel. And so he would wait out the slow minutes 
in the stuffy silence of the club house. He would 
think, “What is she doing now? Is he with 
her ? What are they doing ? ” 

His loneliness weighed on him cruelly. One 
night at the club he perceived Hector Le Tessier 
crossing the salon to go to the writing room, and 
he could not resist going up to him. They shook 
hands cordially. His dilettantism and curious 
tastes had awakened in Hector a secret sympathy 
for the superb human animal that Julien represen- 
ted, and he idly thought that such a being as 
Maud should be permitted every license among 
the vile flock of his contemporaries. 

“Engaged?” asked Julien. 

“ Only to write a telegram. Five minutes, and 
I’m at your orders.” 

Rejoining Julien, he inquired: “What is a gay 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS 


195 


society man like you doing in suck a deserted 
place as this, and at suck an kour ? ” 

“ I’m waiting for tke game to begin,” replied 
Suberceaux, gloomily. 

“ You’d do better to take a drive in tke Bois. 
Tke air is delicious.” 

“ Tke Bois wearies me.” 

“ Go and kear Yvette.” 

“Yvette wearies me.” 

“ And tke women ? ” Le Tessier asked smiling. 

“Ok, I detest women. If I were sure not to 
meet any, perkaps I’d go out.” 

“ What keresy,” laugked Hector. 

“ Tkey disgust me,” Suberceaux added, morose- 
ly, kis kands placed flat upon tke leatker sofa, 
kis kead on kis breast, as if horribly depressed. 

Tke dead silence of tke empty rooms, witk tke 
liigk kalf-opened bay windows, seemed intensified 
by tke after-dinner calm of tke streets outside. 
He continued, thinking aloud, but pleased at 
having an ear near him to listen to kis rancor. 

“ Tkey disgust me ! All tke books ever written 
against them are still too gentle to express wkat I 
feel. I wish I could rescue from tke past, all tke 
time I have squandered on them. It seems to me 
that tkey have corrupted everything in me, tke 
desire for work, ambition, even tke love of life 
and hope for tke future.” He paused a moment, 
and went on : 

“ To think that we dream of them, of possessing 
them, of being desired by them, from our child- 
hood almost, a3 soon as we learn to notice them 
and as soon as we have guessed wkat love is. 
When I was at school, I thought of nothing else. 

I was educated by priests and very religious, but 


196 


THE DEMI VIRGINS. 


do yon know what used to distress me ? It was 
the thought I should never be able to possess all 
the women in the world ! All ! I must have all 
or life did not seem worth living. And yet I was 
a chaste boy.” 

“ Those amorous fancies of one’s childhood are 
always curious,” said Hector. “ When I was at col- 
lege, even I had a little girl I was very fond of, 
and with whom I used to share my slender al- 
lowance. Yet I have never been a woman’s man. 
I’m not irresistible.” 

“ Bah !” said J ulien, vexed. “ Don’t make fun 
of me. I don’t pose before you, you know. Cer- 
tain women are afraid of me. I should render 
myself ridiculous in relating this to everybody, 
but more than one woman has said to me ‘no, 
you’re too handsome.’ Simple good looks is a 
poor weapon in a man’s hands ; that is a woman’s 
own game. Women will always get the best of 
us. But does it matter ? There are too many 
women in the world anyway. They’re all alike. 
Their chastity and virtue is nothing but respect 
or fear of conventional laws, or vanity or habit. 
Few women are virtuous because they have con- 
vinced themselves that it is morally right.” 

A footman entered, arranging the table. 
When Julien saw his embroidered uniform and 
white, fat calves moving about the room, he 
stopped. As the man went out he resumed : 

“ I’m done with women now. I think I’m cured. 
I have found chastity at the bottom of a well of 
debauchery. Judge for yourself. There came to 
my room to-day, a debutante — which is one of 
the best adventures in contemporary society, as 
you will allow. She stayed with me an hour, 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


197 


wliile her governess remained downstairs in a cab 
in front of my door. God knows why I had her 
there. Probably to forget my troubles. And all 
the time I was thinking to myself, “ Ah, if you knew 
how you sicken me — how you weary me !’ ‘ Come,’ 

he added with rising disgust, “ don’t let us say any 
more about it. Are you going anywhere this 
evening ? If you like, I’ll go out with you. It 
will be something for me to do until the cards be- 
gin.” 

Hector rose. “ I’m going to pass an hour at 
the opera,” he said. “There’s a little girl I know 
there. Will you go ? Pardon me if I seem rather 
sceptical of what you’ve been saying. I wonder 
if you have not been jesting.” 

“ My word of honor!” exclaimed Julien earnestly. 

“Come now, handsome Julien,” laughed Hector, 
trying to make him talk more freely. “ I have 
watched you for a long time, and I know you 
thoroughly. You can’t make me believe that you 
are indifferent to all women.” 

Suberceaux fired up. “ To whom do you refer ?” 
he said in a chilly tone. 

Hector bore his angry look without replying, 
and the frankness of his attitude quickly got the 
better of Julien’s ill humor. “You’re right, after 
all,” he said. C ‘I put Mademoiselle de Pouvre 
apart from other women, as I think you do and 
everyone does. But,” he added with an attempt 
at irony, “ we have no longer the right to admire 
her now. Isn’t the marriage date fixed ? ” He 
tried to control himself, but his voice betrayed 
him. 

“ It’s for the eighteenth — nine days,” said Hec- 
tor. 


198 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


“ Ah ! ” exclaimed Suberceaax. He said nothing, 
his eyes fixed on his patent leather shoes. Then, 
all at once, he extended his hand to Hector. “I 
must go now — I forgot I had something to attend 
to. Important business. Good-bye.” 

He did not give himself the trouble of invent- 
ing another excuse; and immediately left the 
club house. Hector heard the massive doors of 
the vestibule open and shut. Then, through the 
window, he saw Julien walking off, rapidly at first, 
then more slowly, under the weight of heavy 
thoughts. 

“There’s a desperate man,” he thought. “A 
man who meditates something tragic. What can 
I do ? ” To play the role of a good providence 
was repugnant to his indulgent cynicism. “ To do 
that is to take sides for the happiness of the one 
against the happiness of the other. And who 
lias such a right ?” 

But it seemed to him, as he thought it over, 
that Maud’s marriage with Chantel was after all 
the best solution of the difficulty, the less of two 
evils. “Besides,” he thought, “I promised to 
help Maud.” He quickly made up his mind and 
sat down and wrote a letter which would reach 
Chamblais the next morning. “ Be on your guard, 
my dear friend — I have just met at the club a 
mutual friend of ours, the most handsome man 
we know. He was in a terribly excited condition.” 
Then he went out and finished his evening at the 
opera, pleased with the day which had given him 
that rare sensation — the privilege of reading the 
bottom of a human heart torn by a tempest of 
passion. 

With the depressed and nerveless step which 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


199 


Hector had observed from the club window, Julien 
turned into the rue St. Honore, going towards 
St. Philippe du Roule and unconsciously drawing 
near his apartment. But in front of his own 
door he came to himself. How could he enter, 
there to find floating in the air, hanging on the 
curtains, reflected in the mysterious depths of the 
mirrors, the shadows, the dust and smoke of his 
dead self, a being in which he had utterly lost in- 
terest ! No, better to escape from the present, to 
forget one’s self, to forget everything ! He re- 
traced his steps in haste, as if he were afraid of 
seeing the door suddenly open and phantoms 
like himself appear. 

A straight and empty street, leading to the 
boulevard, with its long perspective lighted by 
two chains of yellow stars, attracted him. He 
turned down the avenue, surprised at the noise of 
his own footsteps on the dry pavement, surprised 
at seeing his shadow under every gas lamp, sur- 
prised at feeling himself alive. For the problem 
of life, forgotten in the humdrum rush of une- 
ventful days, claims the human being imperiously 
in the hour of a great crisis. At the moment he 
was walking aimlessly, a confused and disordered 
machine; he saw another being, living and think- 
ing, and suffering ; that being was himself, and 
from time to time, he felt the sensation of a 
heavy and unexpected fall. 

“Nine days! Married in nine days — ” Each 
time he pronounced these words it seemed to 
him that he was saying something that contra- 
dicted his whole life, even reality. It was as if he 
had said to himself, “ I am dead. ” It seemed as 
if he were surrounded by phantoms, as if these 


200 


THE DEMI VIRGINS. 


houses, this street, the sound of his own foot- 
steps were all fancies of his imagination. Yet 
through all this, like a shock of reality, came the 
thought, “ Maud is going to be married — it is all 
over — it is all over !” He recalled the spasmodic 
aspirations which had come to him in the years 
gone, as an asphyxiated man seeks desperately 
for air. Rapidly, as in a dream, in which the 
years are jumbled together into the space of a few 
seconds, there passed and repassed before him 
the memory of his dead hopes, of his dead ambi- 
tions. He recalled how, six years back, he had 
arrived in Paris, eager, confident, ambitious ; and 
it seemed to him that the recollection brought 
him new strength. He rebelled against this ut- 
ter defeat. “It shall not be,” he muttered in a 
grim and desperate determination. “ Never!” 

His confused thoughts took up once more all 
the old arguments, the idle cynicism with which 
he had opposed the scruples of tradition and his 
education : “ The possession of a woman should 
be as indifferent to a man as the possession of an 
agreeable glass of liquor. The absurd sentimen- 
tality, the questions of morality and right which 
have been thrown around the relations of the 
sexes are dreams of monks and poets.” 

But such worldly theories were of small avail 
now. He felt himself in the grip of a horrible 
and strangling jealousy. He was racked by the 
thought that Maud could do without him, that he 
was no longer necessary, while he, the strong 
man, could not free himself. He had felt this 
when he had held in his arms another woman, 
sent for in a moment of anger. 

“Yet perhaps, she too is suffering!” 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


201 


It was tlie hope cf his jealousy that she also 
might be mounting her Calvary. “ Certainly she 
cannot have ceased to love me suddenly like that, 
for a reason of mere self-interest. She too suffers 
— unless ? ” 

Again doubt sprang in his heart and with it 
the vulgar horror of kisses taken by another 
man’s lips, and the deadly hate which makes men 
kill. 

He found himself in the Place de l'Europe. It 
was near their old rendezvous and over him came 
an irresistible desire to re-visit the spot. He crossed 
the rue Saint Petersburg, and entered the rue de 
Berne. A few poor painted courtesans were al- 
ready walking up and down in the neighborhood 
of the wine shops. The evening was soft, clear 
and starlight. 

In front of Mathilde’s house, he hesitated. The 
door was closed, as every evening. “ What can I 
say to the janitor ? They won’t let me go up to 
that dead woman’s apartment.” But he immedi- 
ately thought that they always obeyed him when 
he spoke with a certain air of assurance. 

He entered the janitor’s room. The woman 
was there alone, washing dishes. She was taken 
back for a moment when Julien, in a tone of au- 
thority, demanded the key of the apartment. The 
people of Paris have respect for the dead ; but 
hardly for anything else. 

“ I left a coat upstairs that I want to get,” said 
Suberceaux, consenting to reassure the simple 
soul. The janitor handed over the key. Julien 
went up three stories, as light hearted as on the 
days of the rendezvous. Torn by a thousand con- 
flicting emotions, he felt an irrational impulse to 


202 


THE DEMI -VIRGINS. 


see once more the room, even if Maud were not 
there. 

Death’s visitation had made no change in the 
apartment. Not a piece of furniture, nor a hang- 
ing, nor a picture frame was out of place. There 
was only the close smell peculiar to uninhabited 
houses, mingled with the delicate perfume which 
women leave behind long after they have gone. 

His heart oppressed by emotion, Julien entered 
the room, — the scene of their meetings, lit the 
candles on the mantle-piece and threw himself on 
the lounge, lost in a brown study. The phan- 
toms he had but just fled from, he now longed to 
embrace. He sought to conjure up the image 
of the absent Maud, but the apparition avoided 
him. Vainly he closed his eyes, listening to the 
sound of the carriages rolling. In spite of the 
identity of the scene, the yesterdays refused to 
confound themselves with to-day. 

In a sort of tearless despair he rose, seeking by 
instinct some weapon or object which could kill 
him. The horror of living penetrated him. He 
threw himself on the bed, and tore off the covers, 
the sheets. A frenzy to destroy, to wipe out the 
past agitated him. He began to strike at the bed 
as a child strikes a thing which has hurt him. 
Suddenly, from underneath the pillows, a bit of 
linen fell out, dainty, filmy, almost transparent, 
a delicate souvenir of love. It belonged to Maud ! 
Its odor of amber and heather still clung to it, 
and now released, mounted swiftly to Juiien’s 
nostrils. It seemed to summon the image, the 
very presence of her whom he loved. With a cry, 
he fell sobbing on his knees : 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


203 


“ Maud, my life !” 

In the solitude of the room, in this hour of des- 
peration, all the beliefs of his youth blossomed 
again in his heart, in that unhealthy soil which had 
so long covered them. He prayed. He mingled 
with divine names the name of her who was the 
sole thought of his life. He became in all sincer- 
ity the man of religion who tramples all argu- 
ments and reasoning under his feet, demanding, in 
a cry of faith, favors which offend both faith and 
morality. He made promises to the Virgin and 
the Patron saints, as he used to do when he was a 
little boy. He made vows for the future: “I 
will marry her, I will work for her; I will live re- 
ligiously with her ! Only give her back to me ! ” 

The terrible agony of this man, so handsome, 
so young, was tragic in the extreme, tragic as 
those prayers murmured to a bit of linen which 
he bowed before, as he would a shrine. 

When he went down stairs again it was nearly 
eleven o’clock. The janitor was waiting for him, 
but he anticipated her questions by slipping a 
louis into the woman’s hand at the same time as 
the key. Once outside, he walked with a bolder 
step, as if amid the ruins of his heart there was a 
gleam of hope. It was because he had touched 
the depths of his conscience, and had found there, 
mingled with what remained to him of morality 
and faith, the hope w T hich slumbers at the bottom 
of desperate souls. 

“ She shall never marry Chantel ! ” A strong 
conviction told him that. How he could prevent 
it, he did not know. He simply felt that he had a 
right to interfere, not knowing how, nor even if he 
would. He still suffered, but with a pain that 


204 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


was almost numbed, which did not reason, which 
scarcely acted on his conscience, which did not 
cause him to think. He went home and dressed 
with his usual care. Anyone who had seen him 
go out after midnight, in his frock coat and light 
spring overcoat, a flower in his buttonhole, and a 
cigar in his mouth, and go to the club and sit 
down at the gaming table by the side of a basket 
of chq>s, would certainly not have imagined that 
for more than fifteen days this man had been liv- 
ing in a continual state of fever, and for six days 
had been almost insane ;and that two hours earlier 
he had rolled in agony on the bed of a lost love, 
pressing his lips against a bit of fine linen which 
now lay in his pocket. 

At the club the game had begun. He staked 
for a few moments and then directly the bank was 
free, he took it. He held it all night and lost con- 
stantly, each turn of the cards costing him.several 
thousand louis. They rose from the tables at five 
in the morning, in the effervescence of the ingenu- 
ous and insolent joy which lucky stakers have at 
unlucky banks. Every one around Suberceaux 
had won. He himself had lost three hundred 
thousand francs, all the gain of the previous week. 

Suberceaux was always an impassable gambler, 
but on that occasion he drew expressions of ad- 
miration from his enemies. He had allowed a 
fortune to melt between his fingers with absolute 
nonchalance, and when he quitted the club to go 
home, he inhaled the fresh air of the spring 
morning, as care-free as a boy. He had indeed 
found a kind of satisfaction even in his bad luck. 
He was superstitious like all gamblers, and he 
had said to himself : “If I lose to-night, the mar- 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


205 


riage won’t take place.” He had lost everything. 
He went home possessing nothing except his 
clothes. Yet he had brought back with him an 
instinctive faith that the marriage would be 
broken off. He did not seek to discover why ; he 
was tranquil. He felt projects develop in the 
chaos of his thoughts, vague and indistinct, which 
he would think over when he woke. He went to 
bed peacefully, and slept calmly, inhaling the 
perfume of the little linen souvenir which he had 
kept with him. 

Here, assuredly, was one of life’s gamblers, at 
once arrogant and cowardly, superstitious and 
bold — the true soul of the gambler, perhaps also 
the soul of woman, perhaps too, the soul of con- 
querors, when fate so wills it. 


in. 


In spite of the constant renovations which have 
entirely changed the aspect of almost the whole 
left bank of the Seine, the Saint-Sulpice quar- 
ter has preserved its curious sacerdotal character- 
istics. Under the shadows of the towers which 
Victor Hugo aptly compared to gigantic clario- 
nets, under the shadows of the Seminary whose 
parlor flagstones have not been changed since 
they were wet with Manon’s tears, flourish a num- 
ber of lay industries patronized by priests and the 
faithful. In the narrow and tortuous streets are 
the small and gloomy shops of statuette venders, 
candle venders, and venders of mass books, bre- 
viaries and horae duirnae. The streets themselves 
bear old fashioned, fantastic and ecclesiastical 
names, such as rue Saint Placide, rue Princesse, 
rue Cassette, rue du Vieux Colombier. It is also 
the quarter of quaint hotels, which are patronized 
almost exclusively by country priests, sisters in 
office, and pious provincial families, to which they 
have been recommended by the bishops of their 
diocese. The rooms in these hotels look like pri- 
vate rooms in a hospital. The ceilings are raft- 
ered and whitewashed, and the small and plain 
206 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


207 


wooden bedsteads are hung with white calico cur- 
tains. The chimney piece and walls are decorated 
with pious pictures. Everything is of the sim- 
plest description and a model of neatness. One 
is quite surprised to find that the chambermaid 
does not wear a cap, a stomacher and a crucifix 
dangling against her knees from the end of a 
long rosary. The plates and dishes are heavy 
and unbreakable, and the scrupulously clean linen 
is coarse and mended in a hundred places. On 
fast days, one must order in the morning so as to 
have meat for one’s dinner, and as you eat, the ser- 
vant eyes you with suspicion. The hotel office is 
furnished plainly and religious pictures and 
statuettes are scattered around. On the tables, 
one finds the newspapers, La Croix, with its bleed- 
ing Christ amid the rays of a rising sun, L’Uni- 
vers and La Revue du Monde Catholique. 

Such was the Hotel des Missionaires at which 
Mine, de Chantel, her daughter and son, were 
stopping in Paris. They occupied an apartment 
on the second floor which looked on the rue Notre 
Dame des Champs. Mme. de Chantel and J eanne 
had the two prettiest rooms, which communicated. 
Maxime’s room, considerably smaller, overlooked 
the convent gardens and the rear of the Semi- 
nary. It was a typical room of a young unor- 
dained priest arriving for the first time in Paris 
and waiting to enter the Seminary. The white 
canopy of the small narrow bed was intended to 
cover only peaceful slumbers, the slumber of 
science or of religion, the slumber free from all 
impure thoughts. 

Certainly the small sacerdotal chamber had 
never yet sheltered a pilgrim so torn by contra- 


208 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


dictory passions. For Maxime was never two 
days alike. One day, unable to contain himself 
for joy, he would spend hours looking at Maud’s 
portrait, thinking of the happy moments passed 
in her company ; the next, there would be a re- 
action. He would be depressed, full of the 
blackest thoughts, and a wild desire to go away, 
to flee towards the solitude of Yezeris. Each time 
that one of these dark sjiells came upon him, he 
would turn to his native place, as to a coveted 
and inviolable refuge. 

True passion can be recognized by the profound 
isolation which it throws about the soul. Under 
the spell of its mysterious force a mail may continue 
a life of dissipation, but he is none the less alone 
among men and, for a time, he goes through the 
world as if he did not belong to it. J udge then 
of the prodigious force of this isolation upon the 
soul cf a taciturn man, a recluse by inclination 
and disposition. 

Save the years spent at Saint Cyr and in the army, 
Maxime had lived at Yezeris entirely, away from 
the world, alone with his mother and sister, the 
peasants, and an old ecclesiastical tutor. During 
his military service, he experienced his first con- 
tact with life, but long before he returned home 
to Yezeris he had felt disgusted with the love that 
is bought and sold. It had completely cured him 
and taught him to abstain. Yet for all that, 
Maxime was sentimental in disposition and en- 
dowed with a fiery and imperious temperament. 
His passion for Maud, the first of his life, developed 
into a kind of monomania. He suffered from her 
absence and from her presence; he was irritated 
if she was not always with him, and he was irri- 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


209 


tatecl at liis own awkwardness, which paralyzed 
him when near her and robbed him of his courage 
to beg for a kiss, for fear of displeasing her. And 
on the other hand, he suffered from the loss of 
his own will power and the paralysis of his energy. 
He felt convinced that marriage, approached in 
this spirit, the husband sacrificed in advance to 
the wife, could not be holy. How often, in his 
solitude, had he pictured his married life, the 
union of a dominating will and intelligence with 
a gentle and resigned mind like his sister Jeanne’s, 
which he himself had molded. And yet he had 
betrothed himself, vanquished in advance and his 
instinct telling him that the woman he had asked 
to be his wife was of a more subtle and dominat- 
ing race than he, a woman with a heart like those 
of the barbarian masters of Rome, whom the 
Roman women at once despised and worshipped. 
Like those good Catholics who rejoice in mortify- 
ing their souls, he made this renunciation of his 
dignity for the sake of the woman he loved. 

But he could not hush the voice of prudence 
which had spoken to him the day he had fled from 
Saint-Amand, and again on the night when he 
went to the Opera with Hector Le Tessier, and 
still again on the night of the dinner at Cham- 
blais. The voice still repeated unceasingly : 
“ This is not the woman you were seeking. It is 
madness to look for a companion in an artificial 
world to which you do not belong. The day when 
you first discovered you loved her, you invited 
the catastrophe.” Often when he returned from 
Chamblais after an afternoon of happiness spent 
in Maud’s company, this obstinate voice invaded 
U 


210 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


his most joyous moments, and struck a false note 
in the soft chimes that were ringing in his heart. 
He accepted his destiny, and allowed himself to 
be dragged to dressmakers, milliners, upholster- 
ers, his soul numbed and heavy with a vague dis- 
quiet, like a brave soldier who is forced to break 
stones on the highway when his comrades are 
facing the enemy in the field. He was ready for 
anything, everything, for her sake, for the privi- 
lege of inhaling the perfume of her presence and 
looking at her and talking to her. He accused 
himself of loving her badly, and he adored the 
caprices that caused his misery. 

It was just after the public announcement of 
their marriage that he began to receive, one after 
another, the anonymous letters accusing Maud. 
He had sworn to Maud that he had faith in her, 
that he did not wish to doubt her. But how was 
it possible to read, without torture, letters which 
described so minutely her dresses, the time of 
her going out, and the places to which she went. 
He struggled with his own suspicions, he tried 
to find a support against doubt by the recol- 
lection of Hector Le Tessier’s words : “ There 
is no girl in Parisian society whose name has 
not been connected with some scandal, and 
Mademoiselle de Rouvre is too beautiful not to 
have aroused the voice of slander. Be patient 
and put a cuirass around your heart.” 

In spite of everything, in spite of his passion, 
in spite of Maud’s irreproachable behavior, in spite 
of the contempt that every high principled man 
has for anonymous assassins, and without even 
daring to admit, “ I doubt her !” he did doubt 
continually, cruelly. 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


211 


All that may be said of anonymous attacks will 
not prevent the most intelligent and trusting man 
from being disturbed by them, when they cast a 
slur on the honor of the woman he loves. The 
anonymous slanderer first sows the seeds of dis- 
trust and doubt. However intimate the friend- 
ship between a man and a woman may be, a man 
can never hope to know a woman thoroughly. 
Maxime’s confidence in Maud was not unlike a 
newly ordained priest making a desperate effort 
to believe blindly in the faith that outrages his 
reason, in the hope that faith may give peace to 
his soul. It was a confidence built on air, which 
a breath of slander could destroy. 

Maxime experienced that horrible mental tor- 
ture which one’s industrious thoughts can inflict 
when they work unceasingly, in spite of oneself, 
throughout the long days and sleepless nights, 
picking up reminiscences straw by straw, and 
gathering them into a gigantic sheaf, which one 
cannot banish from one’s mental vision. Maxime’s 
brain was an indefatigable gleaner and his mem- 
ory labored patiently, — Saint- Am and — the first in- 
terview — “ she is beautiful and holds herself di- 
vinely, but she hasn’t the innocent look of a young 
girl ! ” pe recalled now that as far back as that 
first autumn afternoon, he wanted to reassure him- 
self, to believe in Maud, and how happy he was 
on hearing Mine, de Chan tel say: “ Oh, they are 
very nice people. ” Jeanne, he remembered, said 
nothing. He knew she did not like the society 
of the de Rouvre girls, but then, Jeanne was so 
timid ! 

Long months went by, months of solitude and 
absence, ending in the conquest of his whole be- 


212 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


ing. Then came the return to Paris, the salon of 
the avenue Kleber and Maud seen once more in 
all the brilliancy of her queenly beauty, seemingly 
ignorant of and too innocent to comprehend the 
depraved conversation going on around her. 
“ Could she have remained pure in such a vicious 
atmosphere?” His doubt had grown stronger 
and begun to strangle his love. Then ^the Opera 
and the incident under the vestibule when Maud 
whispered something to Suberceaux. He knew 
now that Maud’s explanation was untrue, for 
Suberceaux had never been anything to Martha 
de Beversier. 

Then came the dinner at Chamblais, the ro- 
mantic proposal on the lake, amid the mists and 
moonlight, and his first attempt to kiss her. Ho 
had thought at the time that she refused her lips 
and recoiled from his embrace from maidenly 
modesty. But his reason argued now : “ Non- 
sense ; a girl brought up among such surround- 
ings won’t refuse a chaste kiss, even if virtuous.” 
What did it mean ? Then came the knife thrust 
in his heart : “ She loves the other — she has a 
horror of other kisses than his !” Convinced of 
his suspicions, he threw off his lethargy, he re- 
belled, he would believe in her no more ! It was 
frightful to think that the woman he adored had 
a horror of his embrace ; it was more dreadful 
than the idea of being deceived by her. 

Yet he strove once more to reassure himself : 
“ How kind and considerate she is! She tries to 
please me. She renounces her society pleasures 
during my absence. She now keeps away from 
the people surrounding her, and did she not tell 
me sincerely what she thought of them ?” He re- 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


213 


called the earlier and the happiest days of their 
engagement, when he would go to Chamblais and 
spend the whole afternoon with her. When the 
weather was fine he would walk from the station 
to the chateau, and Maud would come to meet 
him. Ah, how he used to watch for her slim, 
white figure to appear among the green trees, and 
how blissful that walk by her side to the chateau. 
When others joined them, Maxime became morose 
and gloomy, irritated that he could not tell her 
freely that he worshipped her. And when, about 
eleven o’clock at night, he found himself back in 
Paris in his little room in the Hotel des Mission- 
aires, he never thought of going to bed. He 
could not sleep ; he conjured up again and again 
the happiness of the day. Doubt was banished 
from his mind ; he was sure of her and sure of 
himself! And then another anonymous letter 
would throw him back into the slough of jealousy 
and despair. 

The knowledge that he must suffer in silence 
and secret intensified his torture. He knew he 
could expect no moral support from either his 
mother or sister. Without knowing what it was, 
they were fully aware that Maxime had some 
weight upon his heart, but they did not dare to 
ask to be allowed to share it. They had for Max- 
ime the innate respect that all aristocratic fami- 
lies have for the chief of the house, who bears the 
family name and defends its honor. Yet his 
gloom made them painfully anxious, and it finally 
became the sole topic of their conversations. Max- 
ime’s melancholy and preoccupation convinced 
his mother that the trouble was connected in 
some way with Maud, and the conviction soothed 


214 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


her maternal anxiety. “ He loves her passionate- 
ly and is impatient ” she thought. “ His dear 
father was just the same.” Jeanne’s lack of ex- 
perience did not permit of this suggestion offer- 
ing itself. She argued merely, that Maxime had 
been unhappy ever since he had first met Maud 
and therefore that Maud must be its cause. Never 
having known during all her girlhood, any other 
friend than this brother, she would not have been 
womanly if a hostile jealousy had not risen in her 
heart against the woman who had robbed her of 
Maxime’s affection. Her religious training told 
her it was wrong, but her resolution to love Maud 
gave way before her brother’* 1 distress. Instinct- 
ively she had disliked Maud. She now began to 
detest her. Yet at the time, her heart was over- 
flowing with affection and joy. A strange and 
novel sentiment had begun to blossom in her soul 
and she was supremely happy. She began to love, 
deeply and only as an innocent virgin can ; she 
felt an ingenuous joy at discovering within her- 
self an unknown force- and ardor. She did not 
dare tell her mother ; it seemed to her that she 
would never have the courage to. And yet she 
would have to confess it sometime, for she loved 
as her father had loved, as Maxime loved, with all 
the ardor and conviction of necessity. 

In their weeks of travail, the mother and sister 
yet had the consolation of prayer. How many 
afternoons they passed in the discreet gloom, 
among the burning wax tapers and incense of 
Notre Dame des Victoires ! They prayed fervent- 
ly for the happiness of the chief of the family, for 
the perpetuation of the line by the faithful guard- 
ian of its honor. With this disinterested invoca- 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


215 


tion, Jeanne mingled a more selfish supplication, 
imploring Heaven to grant her the bliss of being 
loved. The chances of her prayers being granted 
seemed so remote, almost impossible! And yet 
the adorable faith of youth promised her: “It 
shall be !” 

Maxime did not pray. Julien de Suberceaux in 
his hour of trouble, could recall to his lips the 
pious words learned in his childhood, and with 
them, a warmth to his heart, not yet extinguished 
hi the cinders of debauchery. But Maxime, who 
had lived so chaste and well regulated a life, and 
who had been brought up so religiously, could 
pray no longer, because he no longer believed. 
He had scarcely attained manhood when faith had 
deserted him, without apparent cause and without 
pain, just as men lose their hair. What an im- 
penetrable mystery is that breath of belief which 
gives courage to some and forsakes others, dis- 
crediting one’s early teachings and hereditary in- 
fluences by a caprice which cannot be foreseen or 
avoided ! Maxime was so sincerely an unbeliever 
ihat the idea of prayer never once came to him. 

Having no support in religion on which to base 
his resistance, it was inevitable that he should 
give way to his suspicions. The next anony- 
mous letter he received, decided him. It was 
typewritten, and ran : 

“ Evidently, you wish to be blind to the fact that you are 
about to marry a disreputable woman. This letter is the 
last that a person interested in your welfare will ever write 
you. Take heed of its warning ! If you are neither a child 
nor an imbecile, go to-day, Thursday, between five and six 
o’clock, to the rue de la Baume, and keep in sight of the 
second iron door on turning from the avenue de Percier. You 
will lose nothing by going. No one will know and if what I 
say is not true, you will be reassured once for all 1” 


216 


THE DEMI-VIRGIKS. 


The mysterious correspondent who signed 
“Prudence ’’ was a keen judge of human nature. 
The two thrusts with which the letter closed, 
roused Maxime to action. One appealed to the 
least noble of man’s sentiments, “No one will 
ever know. n The other held out the hope of de- 
liverance ! At five o’clock he was at the rue de 
la Baume. He saw a woman who looked like 
Maud enter the house and he waited an hour and 
a quarter for her to come out. For five quarters 
of an hour he felt certain that Maud was lying ih 
Suberceaux’s arms. Five centuries of indescrib- 
able martyrdom ! Judge then of the revulsion 
which followed his release from this hell of des- 
pair when he saw that the woman was not Maud ! 
All doubts were dispelled, everything was now 
explained. The writer of the anonymous letters 
had mistaken Maud for another woman ! 

Such is the part pure chance plays in our lives. 
Like most voluptuaries Julien had more than one 
string to his bow, and knowing how uncertain 
Maud’s appointments were, he had others who 
were ready to come at the first sign. As soon as 
Maud wrote him that she could not come, he had 
telegraphed to Juliette Avrezac, or rather toMme. 
Dueler c, their complacent intermediary, and 
the girl had arrived at five o’clock, only too happy 
at this unexpected rendezvous, after Julien had 
repulsed her so long. 

Maxime went home that evening to the Hotel 
des Missionaires drunk with that excessive joy 
which borders on temporary insanity. His mother 
and sister were waiting dinner for him in the din- 
ing-room surrounded by a number of old ladies 
with white curls, the sisters of charity and big 


THE DEM I- VIRGINS. 


217 


bearded priests in tlieir black gowns, tlie usual 
guests. He kissed the two women so heartily, 
with such radiant joy beaming on his usually 
melancholy face, that they divined at once that 
his trouble was past. He said nothing, but they 
understood. They passed a joyous evening. 
The old ladies with the white curls, the holy sis- 
ters, and the big boned priests were scandalized at 
the unusual gaiety which reigned at the Chantel’s 
table and at the further impiety of uncorking on a 
Saturday evening, a day of half penitence— a 
bottle with a silver capsule. On the label of the 
bottle was a pious image with this surprising le- 
gend: “Veritable Champagne St. Joseph.” 

With his returning happiness there came to 
Maxime a longing to humiliate himself at Maud’s 
feet, to confess his disloyalty to her. His avowal 
which had surprised and agitated Maud so much 
followed the next afternoon. When he had con- 
fessed and Maud’s first responsive kiss had sealed 
his pardon, his fever was calmed. That night 
when he returned to his room he did not try to 
sleep. He wished to prolong through the peace- 
ful night, whose silence was disturbed only by 
the distant chimes, the beatitude of his heart 
whose cup of happiness was filled at last. The 
early dawn was turning the darkness into a 
ghostly grey as he fell asleep. 

At the same hour, Suberceaux, returned home 
from the club ruined and desperate, was closing 
his eyes in a leaden slumber in which there was but 
one ray of faith: “ She shall never marry Chantel !” 


IV. 


The obsession of the thought ** The marriage 
will not take place ” was the only clear thing in 
Julien’s head when he awoke the next morning ; 
all the rest was incoherence and darkness. 

His fixed idea urged him to make haste and 
if possible provoke the catastrophe. Immediately 
Hector’s words came to his mind : “ Maxime goes 
every day to lunch, by the morning train.” Cham- 
blais became the pole of his impulsion. He was 
calm, and the horrible neuralgia of his soul seemed 
numbed, if not quieted. 

Surprised at seeing his master up at such an 
early hour, Constant asked : 

“ Will Monsieur permit me to enquire if he is 
going to fight a duel ? ” 

Julien smiled and replied gaily : “No, Constant, 
Only a little trip to the country, that’s all.” 

As he slipped his watch into his pocket, he no- 
ticed it was a few minutes past nine. “ Constant 
is right. It’s very early.” He remembered that 
the trains left the Northern station every half 
hour. “I shall get there rather early — about 
half past ten.” What of it ? He wanted to get 
there as soon as possible. “ Yes — to see Chan- 

218 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


219 


tel.” The instinctive wish of his heart was ex- 
pressed — “ To see Maxime.” Why ? To kill him *? 
To entreat him ? To convince him ? He did not 
know yet. “I must see him.” 

He arrived at the Northern station a few min- 
utes before the departure of the 9:30 train. 
There were very few passengers and he was alone 
in his compartment. When the train pulled out 
of the station, he began to think. His plan of 
action was beginning to assume shape. He 
would be at the Chamblais station in less than 
half an hour. He remembered the place — the 
small red and yellow suburban station planted in 
the centre of a vast plain and surrounded by a few 
clumps of trees. He remembered the short cut 
to the chateau spoken of by Hector, the narrow 
path through the wood which led to a small lat- 
ticed door. Maxime always went that way. 
Should he wait for him somewhere along that 
path like a highway robber in ambuscade ! No — 
impossible ! He resolved to wait for him at the 
station and meet him in a perfectly natural man- 
ner. They knew each other well enough. 
Then what would happen ? Julien did not know. 
His secret hope was that Chantel would become 
impatient and afford him a pretext for a duel. 
Ah, if he could only fight him and kill Dim ! A 
sword thrust ends everything! He saw now, 
standing before him, a man without coat or vest, 
and a rapier in his hand, his enemy ! Whoever has 
looked forward to a meeting with a man he truly 
hates, can understand the sudden outburst of fe- 
rocity, that ardor of the human animal lor another’s 
blood which throbbed in Suberceaux’s heart. A few 
inches of steel in a vital part and all is over; the 




THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


obstacle is overcome, the course cleared. Suber- 
ceaux dwelt upon it and harbored it, and he had 
the disappointment that follows the awakening 
from a happy dream, when the stopping of the 
train called him back to reality. He had arrived 
at Chamblais. 

The time that intervened before the arrival of 
the next train passed quickly. He walked up and 
down the platform of the little station and out 
along the pathway which led to the forest, his 
mind occupied the whole time with what would 
happen jvhen he met his rival. He resolved to 
hold himself under proper restraint, and to profit 
by the first movement of impatience on the part 
of Maxime, to break off the interview and go back 
to Paris to arrange for the duel. He was certain 
that if he met Maxime in open fight he would 
kill him, not so much because he was a good 
swordsman, as by the jealousy which would ani- 
mate him. 

But reality sometimes amuses itself by con- 
tradicting ones feverish fancies. Although he 
had been on the look out for Maxime, for the last 
half hour, it happened that Julien was surprised 
in the midst of his thoughts by the egress of the 
passengers who poured out through the waiting 
room. It was Maxime who first perceived him 
standing on the platform, preoccupied, and ob- 
serving nothing. He appeared to Maxime like 
the phantom of his hostile destiny, risen before 
him on the road which led to Maud and deter- 
mined to bar it. Then he thought: “Oh, no! 
he wants to see me about that affair of the day 
before yesterday. Juliette Avrezac !” The girl 
was frightened and must have recognized him. 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


221 


She had complained of him to her lover, who had 
come to ask him for an explanation. He did not 
remark the singularity of the delay in asking for 
the explanation, nor of the time and place selected 
for it. Maxime was confirmed in an absolute 
faith in Maud’s innocence, and believed, having 
seen with his own eyes, that Suberceaux was the 
lover of Juliette Avrezac. He accosted Julien, and 
said coldly : 

“ Were you waiting for me 

The surprise of the greeting caused Suberceaux 
to hesitate a moment, and drop his aggressive 
front. But he pulled himself together quickly, 
and resumed the mask of ironical indifference 
which it was his habit to assume. “ I am very 
pleased to meet you, Monsieur de Chantel,” he 
replied. “ You are doubtless going ” 

“ To Chamblais, yes,” replied Maxime, haughtily. 
“ I have a little time at my disposal, and if you 
wish we will come to an understanding at once.” 

With a grave teow, Suberceaux answered : “ As 
you wish.” 

The few passengers had already dispersed, car- 
ried off by the public vehicles towards the village 
situated on the other side of the wood, in the 
valley of the Oise. 

Maxime and Suberceaux walked towards the 
forest. They did not speak, embarrassed by the 
broad empty space surrounding them, as if the 
naked landscape were watching them. As soon 
as they had entered the wood and found the path 
leading to the chateau, they slowed their step. 

“ Before you say anything, w said Maxime, “ I wish 
to state that I am very sorry for what occurred. 
I acted in a moment of violent excitement and did 


222 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


not stop to think what I was doing. I am ready 
to apologize most humbly to — the person in ques- 
tion.” 

These misunderstandings which sometimes hang- 
over the most tragic situations, seem like an ironi- 
cal caprice of destiny, and their irony makes them 
still more tragic. Julien did not understand what 
Maxime had in mind. It never entered his head 
that it could concern any other woman than Maud. 
Juliette Avrezac was far from his thoughts at that 
moment, and in truth every woman save one. All 
he comprehended was that Maxime seemed to be 
apologizing and humbling himself. Yet, accus- 
tomed to dominate other men, this did not sur- 
prise him. He turned haughtily to his companion 
and said : “ If those are your sentiments, what are 
you going to do at Madame de Rouvre’s?” 

This time Maxime suspected an error. “I 
think,” he replied with abruptness, “that we are 
not speaking of the same person. I mean the 
young woman whom you received in your house 
or at least who left your house about six o’clock 
two days ago.” 

“Juliette Avrezac?” 

“ I believe that is her name.” 

“ What is she got to do with it ? ” 

“ It’s hardly my place to tell you if you don’t 
know yourself. I was led into making a mistake. 
It was for this error that I wish to apologize to 
Mademoiselle Avrezac, and as I am not likely to 
meet her I should be glad if you would convey 
my apology. That is all I had to say to you. Now 
since you say that Mademoiselle Avrezac has 
nothing to do with the matter, I beg of you to tell 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


22 5 


me wliat you want with me and why I find you on 
my path.” 

Suberceaux said nothing. He was watching 
Maxime’s rising irritation, and ready to quarrel at 
the first pretext. His object was so evident that 
Maxime noticed it, and he trembled with a sort of 
brutal desire to strangle this man in the lonely 
wood, the same desire which had made Suber- 
ceaux palpitate an hour before. “ But if we fight, 
Maud is dishonored.” This thought stopped him. 
He determined that he would not fight with Jul- 
ien and it was a formal, final determination, like 
all his decisions. 

“ It matters little,” he said after a pause. “ I’ve 
said all that I have to say to you.” 

“ I beg your pardon,” replied Suberceaux quick- 
ly. " Our interview is by no means ended. So,” 
he added with a sneer, “ you permit yourself to 
watch my house and spy upon a woman, a friend 
of mine, in this contemptible fashion.” 

“ Stop,” interrupted Maxime, calmly. “ Do not 
try to provoke a dispute. I will not fight you. 
So don’t insult me. You have the same opinion 
of me as I of you in these matters. Neither of us 
would shrink before the barrel of a pistol. But I 
will not fight you before I am the husband of 
Mademoiselle de Rouvre. That’s clear enough, 
isn’t it ? And you understand my reason. After- 
wards, when Mademoiselle de Rouvre is my wife, 
I shall be perfectly willing to give you all the 
satisfaction you demand. Pray, let the matter 
drop for the present. Leave me.” 

This was said so calmly and in such a firm voice 
that Julien felt that it would be useless to persist. 
The two men said nothing more and walked for 


224 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


some time along the pathway. In spite of all, 
Maxime wanted Suberceaux to talk, feeling there 
was something hidden in his breast. With a com- 
mon impulse, both suddenly stopped short and 
looked at each other. They understood, from that 
singular instinct which always seems present to 
us in a crisis, that at last they were going to tell 
each other everything, to know w T hat was at the 
bottom of each other’s hearts, and that this ex- 
planation was necessary. In this silent declara- 
tion of their eyes, there was a reciprocal promise 
of a truce. It was a temporary suspension of hos- 
tilities between two deadly enemies, two men 
tortured by the same woman. Suberceaux, the 
dissipated gambler, and Maxime de Chantel, the 
lay saint, had formed a ..temporary alliance. 

“Monsieur de Chantel,” said Suberceaux in a 
low tone, that moved him almost as much as it 
startled Maxime, “do not go to Chamblais! ” 

There was no anger in Maxime’s reply. Every 
nerve was wrought to its utmost tension. He could 
only gasp one word: 

“Why?” 

“Don’t ask me to tell you,” Suberceaux replied 
in the same low tone. “ What is the good? You 
believe me now, I am sure. Return to Paris, go 
back to your country place. Try to forget all that 
has happened.” 

They walked on slowly. Suberceaux laid his 
hand on Maxime’s arm with a gesture in which 
there was neither menace or violence. He said 
earnestly: “You cannot marry Mademoiselle de 
Rouvre. See, I speak without anger. Believe 
me, you are going towards a catastrophe. Return. 
Ga no further.” 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


225 


Maxime tried to speak, but he could not. He 
suffered so cruelly that he no longer tried to con- 
ceal it. 

“Beturn home,” Suberceaux’s warning went 
on. “ Go away from here. Leave me alone with 
Maud. You have not the right to marry her — 
nor she — ” 

.A cry of distress issued from Maxime’s throat. 
“ Ah ! It can’t be true ! You are lying. Now I 
will fight you — I’ll kill you — you wretch ! ” His 
face was distorted with a passion that was fright- 
ful. He sprang toward Suberceaux with the rage 
of a wild beast. But Julien did not flinch. He 
caught the madman’s uplifted arm in his vise- 
like grip, shaking his head slowly. 

“What’s the good of fighting. All is ended, 
now that you know. Maud is my ” 

He did not finish. The horrible menace of 
Julien’s words, his impassible manner, his tone of 
sincerity, went through Maxime like cold steel. 
A moment later Suberceaux had released his 
grasp. 

“ Hush ! — here she is.” 

A bit of white muslin was seen fluttering among 
the trees around the corner of the avenue, and 
coming their way. They walked slowly towards 
her, with white faces, each mastering himself with 
a supreme effort. 

Suddenly Maud perceived them. She started, 
her heart struck still. In god’s name, how had 
these two men met — and here ! Then she under- 
stood that the long expected, long dreaded mo- 
ment, when these two men would explain them- 
selves was at hand. She summoned all her en- 
15 


226 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


ergy, all her self possession. No, in spite of 
everything, she would not be daunted ! She 
came on, outwardly calm as a flower. “Perhaps 
Maxime knows nothing,” she thought, “ and if so, 
nothing is lost. If he does know, then all is over. 
‘Well! So much the worse. It will all be over! 
But I shall still remain myself.” Remaining 
“ herself ” meant that she would still maintain her 
courageous, imperious attitude before the world. 
And, wearing her usual mask of impenetrable in- 
difference, she waited for the denouement. 

Of the three, Suberceaux was by far the most 
disturbed. Maxime had outwardly recovered his 
calm, but Suberceaux saw suddenly open before 
him an abyss into which all his hopes . were 
plunged. His instinct had told him, “ Maud will 
never forgive me.” 

Maxime was the first to speak. “ Maud,” he 
said in a voice that still trembled slightly, “on 
my way here, I met Monsieur de Suberceaux.” 

Julien, white with emotion, tried to speak, but 
his lips moved without uttering a word. Maud 
looked at him, and her look made him recoil. 

“ Ah ! And what did he tell you ?” she asked, 
looking at Maxime, still coldly, but with a little 
more softness in her eyes. 

Maxime hesitated, and then said slowly : “ He 
told me — at least he was going to tell me, for I 
did not let him finish, that you had been his — 
(the word clung to his throat) his — mistress!” 
Maxime expected that she would recoil at the epi- 
thet. Not a muscle of her face moved, but with 
a glitter in her eyes so terrible that Julien shrank 
back, she walked straight up to him and asked : 
“ Did you say that ?” 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


227 


He could not deny it, he could not speak. He 
could only breathe her name in a murmur of sup- 
plication : 

“Maud—!” 

She did not utter a word of reproach, but as 
she looked at him with long, unwavering glance, 
the deadly glitter of her eyes changed to a look 
of such surpassing disdain and contempt, that 
Suberceaux seemed to wither beneath her gaze. 
Then with one furious stroke, as if the wild and 
speechless rage of her soul pended itself in this 
single violent outburst, she struck him a terrible 
blow with her parasol, full across the mouth. The 
weapon broke in a dozen fragments, but the wire 
frame tore the skin viciously, causing the blood 
to flow. 

“Now go !” she said contemptuously, throwing 
the broken handle to the ground. 

The blow had come so quickly, so unexpectedly, 
that Suberceaux stood stupefied and trembling, 
in the attitude of a punished child. Despite the 
pain of his humiliation, even her brutality seemed 
like a caress. He was not angered, and he me- 
chanically picked up his hat. 

Maud still stood, like an offended goddess, re- 
peating her words : “Begone !” 

Slowly he put on his hat. It was crushed and 
covered with dust. Of the three, it was to Max- 
ime that this sudden degradation of manhood un- 
der a woman’s imperious violence, was the most 
painful, and the most frightful to witness. His 
heart swelled in indignation. Suberceaux, no 
longer conscious of his presence, saw only Maud 
and her scornful finger of dismissal. He cared 
nothing for his humiliation. His only thought 


228 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


was : “ My one cliance of pardon is to obey, and 
obey quickly.” 

She said once more : “ Begone ! ” 

Without a word, humbly, and like a beaten 
dog, he walked slowly away. Maud and Maxime 
watched him a3 he went. He didn’t turn round, 
nor look behind. The sight was distressing, it 
was more, it was horrible. Maxime’s own dignity 
suffered at seeing one of his own sex so trod upon 
and insulted by a woman. His face covered with 
blood, his head bent low, stumbling, almost un- 
recognizable, Maud and Maxime saw Julien dis- 
appear round the corner of the pathway. They 
were alone. If Maxime had ever felt his strength 
fail him, the frightful example of Suberceaux, 
coupled with his own rebellion at Maud’s domi- 
nation, would have given him courage. Rallying 
all his energy, he drew himself up, and with a 
slight tremor in his voice, said simply : 

“ It’s my turn to go now, I suppose ?’’ 

They looked at each other in silence for a mo- 
ment. Hardly knowing what, they each felt that 
they still had something to say to each other, that 
they could not leave each other thus. Maud, 
doubtless, was thinking, “It depends on me to 
win him back. Shall I try ?” But the sight of 
Suberceaux’s abject humiliation had the same 
effect on her resolute soul as upon Maxime. She 
had suddenly become disgusted with lying. 

“ Listen, Maxime,” she said in a voice that he 
felt was tragic in its sincerity, “ I only want to say a 
single word to you. I did not deceive you. That 
man lied to you ; I have never been his mistress. 
You will believe me, because I confess that he 
loved me, and that I loved him — yes, that perhaps 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS 


229 


even yesterdpy I still loved him. So — all is 
over between ns now ? I don’t try to persuade 
you, or to hold you against your will.” 

There is no man, who sincerely loving a woman 
would not have seen a glimmer of hope at these 
words. 

“ Then- — ” cried Maxime, and his eyes, lover’s 
eyes still, implored for a complete explanation ; 
an explanation that would give peace to his mind. 
But Maud now understood perhaps for the first 
time, how fast she was bound in the meshes of 
that false position, that pretended dignity and 
innocence, which she had fostered amid compro- 
mise and deceit. There was no way, even had 
she wished, to tell Maxime the truth. She would 
have had to go on lying and deceiving. 

“What took place between that man and me,” 
she said, in a violent desire to be sincere as a sort 
of expiation to her conscience, “ no, don’t ask me 
that. I can’t tell you. It is better for you that 
we should part, that you should forget me.” 

The thought of an imminent separation caused 
Maxime to grow pale. He still wished to hope ! 
They were slowly nearing the chateau. “ Maud,” he 
said, “ I came into your life only a short time ago. 
The past does not belong to me — I have no right 
upon it. Since — since he lied, why forbid me to 
think of you ?” 

She stopped, looking at him as if in hesitating 
debate herself. It w T as that fateful moment, that 
cross roads of destiny to which Sophocles’ Tiresias 
refers. Maxime continued : 

“And if I loved you well enough to pardon? ” 

This word “pardon” suddenly ended the truce; 
Maud said quickly: “I don’t wish for pardon,’’ 


230 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


she replied. “ It is best, Maxime, that we should 
say good-bye. You will remember that it was I 
who said, ‘ go away,’ at a moment when, perhaps, 
I could have won you back. You must not think 
of me in anger. Do you promise ? ” 

From the sincerity of her tone, Maxime under- 
stood that all was ended. “ I promise,” he an- 
swered in a grave and broken voice. 

“ Adieu!” 

That was all. In a deep abstraction he saw her 
move away, watching the white muslin dress as it 
flitted gracefully along between the trees, and 
finally disappeared from view. Only then did he 
understand that his dream was over, that this 
woman was lost to him forever. 

A statue was close by, set in one of the shel- 
tered nooks formed by the trees — a marble Hebe, 
pouring out an invisible liquid into her round 
vase. On the bench at its foot, Maxime sat down, 
and covering his face with his hands, sank into 
an abyss of despair. 

Maud had gone and in her place he saw, now 
that the scales had fallen, a girl similar to all the 
other girls of this false modern world. Hec- 
tor Le Tessier’s word “ demi- virgin,” crossed his 
mind and he smiled bitterly. She, also, the be- 
loved idol, the wife he had chosen, was a demi- 
virgin ! For he understood everything now, re- 
ceptive to sudden evidence by the long agony of 
his former doubts. Could he love or feel desire 
for such a polluted soul ? No, it was impossi- 
ble. Truly, he loved her no longer. She could 
belong to whom she liked ; neither jealousy nor 
desire would torment him more. What he did 
suffer was that someone was lost irreparably, was 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


231 


dead, someone in whom he had believed — whom 
he had adored. And all his life long it would be 
his sorrow ! 

That same evening Maud de Kouvre was re-in- 
stalled in Paris. Her resolution, as always, had 
been prompt and definite. After having left Max- 
ime, she had returned to the chateau and locked 
herself up alone in her room, where she reviewed 
the events of the day as a general inspects what 
troops are left to him after a defeat. Why seek 
to deceive herself? It was a defeat, the utter 
ruin of precious hopes. She did not even think 
of trying to win Maxime back. If he had hesita- 
ted when with her in the wood, at the thought of 
losing her forever, it was hardly likely that he 
would hesitate now. “ He will never forget me, 
but he will never come back ! Never ! ” 

Now that Maxime had gone, what could she do 
with her life ? Begin the struggle anew ? Possi- 
bly. Only the chances of success were darkened 
now by the present check. “How pleased 
Aaron and Madame Ucelli will be, and all the 
other women who have spied upon me so long!” 
Over her came a wave of discouragement and weari- 
ness. “ Begin over again ? How? Where is the 
money coming from to keep up expenses ? Where 
can I find three hundred louis a month.” All her 
private fortune was spent already. Her return to 
Paris meant bankruptcy and a furious onslaught 
by the creditors whom the prospect of a rich mar- 
riage had made patient. They would seize all, 
everything. 

“ Oh, that, never ! ” 

What could she do ? She did not even think 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS* 


232 


of a marriage with Suberceaux. Her rancor 
against him had aroused her pride too much to 
allow the voice of desire to plead for him. It was 
on him, and not on Maxime that she wanted to re- 
venge herself now. “ Yes — to cause him pain.” 
She wanted to break his heart for what she had 

suffered from his treason. And it suddenly 

crossed her mind — vengeance was within her 
grasp, the solution of all her money troubles and 
the future assured as well. 

“ Aaron’s mistress ! ” 

Her heart sank. So be it ! In this struggle 
between three men for her conquest, she would 
belong to the one she despised ! 

“ Aaron’s mistress ! ” 

She pronounced the horrible words aloud, im- 
agining Julien’s dispair if he heard them. The 
joy of making this man who had caused her de- 
feat, suffer, almost overcame her loathing of the 
thought. The vision passed, like a bad dream. 
She busied herself with her immediate plans. She 
would return to Paris for a few days, hasten 
Jacqueline’s marriage with Lestrange and then 
spend a month or two abroad with her mother. 

She rang for her maid : “ Pack my trunks, 
Betty. We shall sleep in Paris to-night.” 

When, a few moments later, Mine, de Rouvre 
rushed breathlessly into the room and asked for 
an explanation of this unexpected step, Maud re- 
plied shortly : 

“ We are going back because we have to. I’ll 
explain when we get to Paris. I don’t feel like it 
now. Take my word for it. We must ! ” 

The news of the departure spread through the 
household. Etiennette heard, but asked no ques- 


THE HEM t- VIRGINS. 


233 


tions. Only Jacqueline remarked : “ Oh, I’m not 
surprised. I expected something of the kind. 
My trunk is all packed. What do you expect to 
do in Paris? ” she inquired of Maud, not without a 
shade of irony. 

“ I have my plans ” replied Maud, curtly. 

‘‘Doubtless,” retorted Jacqueline. “All I ask 
is that you wait until I am Luc’s legitimate spouse. 
Afterwards, it’s your own business.” 


y. 


The bishop, in sonorous oratorical tones that 
could be heard throughout the church, was 
saying : 

“ In several places in the Holy Scriptures, God 
has manifested that he does not condemn, far 
from it, that he favors, that he blesses the recip- 
rocal love of his creatures, on condition that He 
Himself shall remain the supreme object of this 
love. The Christian wife should love in her hus- 
band, mademoiselle, the immediate representative 
of her Creator.” 

Hector Le Tessier was perhaps the only one 
among the elegant but not over-reverent assem- 
blage which filled the nave of Saint Honore 
d’ Eyla, who could fully appreciate the flavor of ab- 
surdity of the words which rolled glibly from the 
mouth of the venerable Mgr. Le verde t, Bishop of 
Spax. Jacqueline de Rouvre, the bride and Luc 
Lestrange, the bridegroom, were irreproachable 
in appearance and acted with becoming reverence. 
Jacqueline had succeeded in keeping her childish 
playfulness in check by a studied seriousness of 
manner and speech. Lestrange was rather ner- 

234 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


236 


*ons and paler than usual, but the sacred character 
cf his surroundings did not prevent his mind from 
dwelling ardently and feverishly on his coming 
possession of the disturbing little creature, dressed 
now in tulle and satin, kneeling by his s'de on 
fche red velvet, 

Nor did the solemnity of the place, the charac- 
ter of the ceremony, nor the sonorous voice of the 
officiating bishop prevent the members of the as- 
semblage from chattering in a low tone among 
themselves, or from watching the various in- 
trigues goiDg on around them. 

As at a ball, the groups were made up accord- 
ing to the affinities. The novelist Espiens had 
escorted the pretty Mme. Duclerc, whose husband, 
as usual, was not visible. Dora Calvell had 
hardly entered the church when Yalbelle left Hec- 
tor Le Tessier and went to take a seat just be- 
hind her. Then, heedless of a hundred eyes, as 
he knelt forward on the prie dieu, she slightly 
turned her head, holding a prayer-book to her 
lips, and resumed a flirtation which had been go- 
ing on ever since Dora first went to the painter’s 
studio. Martha de Reversier had a new admirer 
dangling after her, while pale and motionless and 
with her big eyes fixed on the choir, Madeline de 
Reversier was watching abstractedly the platform 
on which were seated the contracting couple. 

Hector, too, turned his eyes upon Jacqueline 
and Lestrange, and with the words of the bishop 
ringing in his ears, he smiled and thought, “In 
this household the Creator will be very badly rep- 
resented.” 

But at that moment he happened to glance at 
•Juliette Avrezac, who was close by him, and saw 


236 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


her blush and then hide her face in her gloved 
hands. He turned and saw Julien de Suberceaux 
standing among the last rows of empty chairs. 
He was dressed with the same faultless elegance 
as ever, but his wan face, emaciated by fever, was 
terrible to look upon, like the faces of dying per- 
sons seen in the hospitals. “ What does he want 
here ?” he thought. 

Without having questioned Maud as to the cir- 
cumstances, Hector knew much of what had taken 
place. On the very evening of the rupture, Max- 
ime had apprised him of his departure for Yezeris 
with his mother and sister. He gave no reason. 
He had expressed regret at quitting his friends so 
abruptly, and he had made Hector promise to go 
to see him at Poitou in the summer. There was 
no allusion to Maud ; her name was not even men- 
tioned . 

This abrupt departure had an effect that Hec- 
tor did not expect. It had made him feel the 
void caused by Jeanne’s absence. The first few 
days he smothered the sensation and refused to 
believe the evidence of his own senses. Then he 
had scolded himself : “ It’s too absurd. I’ll soon 
forget her.” A week, ten days passed like this, 
and did not drive away the irritating sensation of 
isolation and loneliness. “No matter,” he 
thought, “I must forget her.” 

He did not forget. One night, on going home, 
enervated and dissatisfied with himself, he found 
a letter addressed to him in a strange handwrit- 
ing. He guessed at once who it was from. It 
said : “I know I’m doing something very wrong, 
but, really, I’m so unhappy ! I must know if I 
should enter a convent ?” Hector was alone, and 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


237 


involuntarily, without knowing what he was do- 
ing, he covered the note with kisses. The timid 
characters traced by Jeanne’s hand, had moved 
him strangely. After he had calmed down, he 
thought : I am as silly as a schoolboy. “ It’s id- 
iotic at my age and with the experience I‘ve had 
with girls.” But his conscience protested : “ No, 
this girl is not like the others. You are truly her 
sole thought. She has never loved ; she has not 
bestowed her heart at random. Her mention of 
the convent is not an idle threat ; such will be her 
future existence if you do not want her!” He 
felt in his heart an unwonted tenderness. Above 
all, the thought that the dear little affectionate 
soul was suffering, at that moment, and through 
his fault, was unbearable. 

Hector wrote the same evening to Maxime, an- 
nouncing that he would visit Yezeris shortly. He 
was not brave enough to take the final step, al- 
though, at heart, he had decided. 

This was why, to-day, at the marriage of one of 
those whom he had christened the “ demi- virgins,” 
he alone perhaps among all the others present, 
was struck by the frightful contradiction between 
the principles of the Christian marriage, in which 
he, the cynic and dilettante, believed, and the 
morals of the pleasure seeking world in which he 
had lived. 

The grey bearded bishop, at that moment, was 
extolling the virtues of the bridegroom, the empty 
and perfunctory words fell unheeded on the 
indifferent throng, which began to think the ser- 
vice very long. Conversations w T ere carried on 
openly, and stifled laughs came from the corner 
where a few friends were grouped round Valbelle 


23& 


THE DEMI-VIBGINS. 


and Dora. Hector thought: “What a comedy! 
Why this hypocrisy? Why these lies? Why 
these public promises of fidelity between people 
determined to take their pleasure where they find 
it? Why the venerable pomp of the Christian 
marriage for this modern partnership, which has 
none of the sacredness which was the beauy of the 
Christian nuptials ? How long will the institution 
last, if the morals of modern society do not mend?” 

The bishop concluded his discourse. The sym- 
bolic liturgy again caught the attention of the 
spectators. They watched for the slipping of the 
ring on the bride’s finger, and every one was si- 
lent to hear the pair utter the solemn “ yes.” And 
when this was done, when the bishop had said the 
Ego autem marito vos in spiritu sanctu, that skep- 
tical and atheistic crowd, still imbued with an ob- 
scure faith in the sacrament, a faith woven into the 
texture of their beings by twenty centuries of 
Christianity, yet felt that mysterious thrill which 
attends the union of two souls. 

But the listless attention of the assemblage, the 
unseemly chattering and laughing began again 
with the mass and lasted until it was done. Then 
followed a scene to be witnessed only in Catholic 
countries — the collection taken up by the brides- 
maids, to be bestowed upon the poor. 

Martha de Reversier and Maud were the maids 
of honor and as the latter passed from row to row 
the eyes of the whole assemblage were turned 
upon her. 4 

Since her return to Paris, Maud had never men- 
tioned the breaking off of her engagement, and no 
one had dared to question her. “ A wonderful 
comedienne ! ” thought Hector, as he followed her 


THE DEMI- VIRGINS. 


239 


with his eyes. “ If I did not know it positively, I 
could never believe that she is ruined and doomed 
to the most desperate expedients.” She passed 
on, queenly still, and so beautiful that she com- 
pelled the admiration of all. Her beauty was so 
disturbing that the men flushed as they threw 
their contributions into the plate she held out. 
Hector watched her as she passed Julien de Suber- 
ceaux. His contribution chinked as it fell, but 
there was no trace of emotion on the features of 
the fair collector. The next instant Suberceaux 
had sunk to his knees, on the prie dieu. 

A voice behind Hector said: “I’ve been all over 
the church. Etiennette isn’t here. Have you 
seen her?” It was Paul Le Tessier. He had just 
come and had taken a seat beside his brother. 

“No,” replied Hector. “I haven’t seen her. 
Ask Maud.” 

“ I will presently, in the vestry. I suppose the 
family rejoicing will soon be over.” 

The service was ended and in the vestry the 
newly married couple, surrounded by their friends, 
were exchanging compliments and kisses with the 
invited guests. The younger portion lingered in 
the obscurity of the alcoves, whispering in the lan- 
guage of flirtation. Some forgot themselves en- 
tirely and treated the place as the ante-chamber 
of a ball-room. Espiens, the novelist, was de- 
scribing to Martha de Reversier, in the presence 
of Mme. Duclerc and Juliette Avrezac, an artist’s 
ball in the Latin quarter — the fin-de-siecle orgie 
given every year by the wild students, and at 
which he had spent the night. With infinite gus- 
to he related how, among other indecencies, a 
naked girl had been carried round the room on 


240 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


the men’s shoulders and, afterwards, had imitated 
the danse du ventre. 

“ All the papers are talking of it this morning,” 
he added, his eyes sparkling. “ I hear the police 
won’t allow it again, so I’m glad I saw it. It was 
immense.” 

Hector stood a little away from them, talking 
in a low tone with Suberceaux. Valbelle, togeth- 
er with Paul Le Tessier, Mme. Avrezac and Doc- 
tor Krauss were gathered about Jacqueline and 
Lestrange. 

Wearied by the empty show, Maud had quitted 
her sister, Lestrange and her friends, and taken 
refuge in a neighboring chapel, which was quite 
empty and where Aaron soon joined her. She re- 
ceived him with cold politeness. He was obse- 
quious and abjectly humble as always. Maud 
disdainfully repulsed his attempts at familiarity, 
and he stammered in his oily voice : 

“ Delighted —with the ceremony. It permits 
me to hope that it will soon be my turn.” 

As Maud’s face clouded, he betrayed his 
uneasiness. ‘‘You haven’t changed your mind, 
have you ? ” His eyes glittered with vile desire. 

Maud replied : “I told you that I accepted the 
bargain.” 

He lowered his head at her last word. Then, 
with volubility he said : “ The last contracts were 
signed this morning. I have bought the hotel in 
the rue Alphonse de Neuville. You can take pos- 
session at once.” 

“Very well,” replied Maud, “my mother and I 
will start to-morrow night for Spa. You can join 
us in a week. Leave me now.” 

He obeyed and went out, erect and arrogant, 


THE DEMI-YIRGINS. 


241 


directly he was out of range of Maud’s gaze. He 
did not see or hear her make this menace, which 
was prompted by her disgust and anger : “ Go, 
wretch, it is you who shall pay for the failure of 
my life. And you shall pay dearly!” 

She immediately controlled herself on seeing 
Paul Le Tessier enter the chapel. He was look- 
ing for her. “You feel anxious about Etiennette? ” 
she asked. 

“Yes — I don’t see her. I am rather uneasy. 
She’s not ill?” 

“No. She received a letter this morning just 
when we were going out. She probably went 
somewhere in answer to it.” 

“ A letter from whom ? ” 

“ Don’t be jealous. I can’t tell you from whom, 
for I don’t know. All I do know is it was from a 
woman.” 

Reassured, Le Tessier thanked her as he kissed 
her hand. Maud had only told him half the truth. 
Etiennette had received an urgent letter that 
morning calling her away. This letter was from 
Suzanne who, unknown to her sister, had returned 
to Paris. 

By degrees the vestry was emptied ; Mme. de 
Rouvre, Jacqueline and Lestrange rejoined Maud. 

“ Bah ! how tiresome it all is,” exclaimed 
Jacqueline, “ If a woman had to go through as 
much trouble as this to deceive her husband, I 
don’t think there would be many unfaithful 
wives.” 

Hector Le Tessier drew Maud aside and said 
quietly : “He wants to speak to you.” 

She grew pale, but it was the paleness of anger, 

16 


242 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


not of fear. “ Whom do you mean ? Julien ? ” 

“ Yes. He will follow you to your house if you 
don’t give him a moment’s interview here. I take 
the liberty of advising you to see him now. Al- 
most everyone has gone. He’s waiting for you at 
the entrance.” 

“Very well, 111 go.” 

She met him on the threshold of the gloomy 
corridor. He was pale and excited. “ Maud,” he 
cried, in a low intense tone, “ I must see you ! I 
must ! My God, how I have suffered ! I love 
you so.” His voice trembled and his whole frame 
shook. 

“ Listen,” she replied slowly. Her voice was 
edged with icy contempt and she looked him 
straight in the face. “ I’ll never be yours — never 
— never, because you violated your word, and be- 
cause you have been a — coward. In eight days I 
shall be the mistress of another man. Did you 
hear ? Now go ! ” 

He supplicated her wildly. “ Maud — I swear 
to you that if you send me from you, I’ll kill my- 
self.” 

She looked him full in the eyes and in that low 
voice which seemed to come from her heart — that 
voice in which she used to tell him, “ I love you,” 
she replied as she shut the vestry door between 
them : 

“Very well! Go and kill yourself ! ” 

An hour afterwards a gay company was seated 
at the wedding breakfast, in the hall of the avenue 
Kleber. It was richly decorated with flowers, and 
behind a screen of foliage an orchestra of Spanish 
guitar players sent forth the low sensuous strains 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


243 


of the Castilian dance. The breakfast over, sev- 
eral couples began to waltz in their street attire. 
They had not been able to retain Paul Le Tessier, 
who had gone immediately to the rue de Berne to 
look for Etiennette. But Hector was there, stand- 
ing alone in one of the bay windows and watching 
the actors of all the dramas of love which were 
unfolding around him. “To think,” he said to 
himself, “ that I have cared for such society, that 
I have relished the wit of such men, that I have 
desired such women ! ” 

Ruminantly he reviewed his wasted years. 

Twenty-one ! The threshold of manhood, the 
happy days when life is full of illusion and hope, 
the days of our first thrill of emotion on meeting 
and conversing with beautiful women, and our 
timid admiration in the presence of famous men ! 
Then, as the years rolled by, disenchantment 
came to Hector as to all of us. He became sur- 
feited with balls, soirees, the theatres, the beauty 
of women and the wit of his fellows. Like most 
young men of his set, he had sought the sensu- 
ous society of women, and the frank ingenuous 
eyes of young girls. “ Oh, how tired I am of all 
that,” he thought. “ I’ll have no more of them.” 
That Dora Calvell spent all her afternoons in a 
painter’s studio, that Juliette Avrezac threw her- 
self into Suberceaux’s arms, that the little Rever- 
sier girls and so many others were ready to come 
in answer to a similar call — all this mattered little 
to him now. The libertine amusements of these 
little voluptuaries could hardly be classed higher 
than vaudeville. 

“ The one of them all,” thought Hector, “ who 
was really a woman of character — our beautiful 


244 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


sphinx, Maud, gives up the riddle in despair. 
The life of a declassee is henceforward hers. 
Such, under different guises, is the life that awaits 
all demi-virgins around the turning of the road. 
The young girl, abandoned and betrayed, is more 
surely destined to a life of shame than is the legal 
victim of an ill assorted marriage. Such is the 
mechanical fate which modern society metes out 
to unfortunate woman. ” 

Disgust and ennui filled his soul. In vain did 
the orchestra discourse the melodies of one of 
Strauss’ voluptuous waltzes, the women smile and 
the men whirl them away in the dance. Under 
these floral decorations, these rich gowns. Hector 
saw the figure of death which awaits this rotten 
modern society, condemned for having poisoned 
the source of human love, which is the innocence 
of the virgin. And all at once came a desire to 
Hector to flee, to quit this society and never re- 
turn to it, happy if he could avoid carrying away 
its dust on his shoes. At the same moment he 
caught a mental glimpse of the distant chateau, 
at Yezeris, where in that secluded corner of the 
provinces, the chaste soul of a truly innocent 
girl was waiting until he should come to her and 
love her. 

Without even saying good-bye, he left the 
house hurriedly, as one escapes from a theatre 
threatened by fire, and as he descended the stair- 
case he thought to himself I shall never mount 
these stairs again.” 

The festivities continued for some time after he 
had gone. As they were drawing to a close one 
of the servants approached Maud who was talking 
with Espiens. 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


245 


“ Mademoiselle Etiennette would like to see 
Mademoiselle.” 

Maud joined lier friend in the room which she 
had occupied since they had come back from 
Cliamblais. Etiennette threw herself on Maud’s 
breast. 

“Oh, darling — darling — I’m so unhappy !” 

Maud seated her on her knees, kissed her, and 
consoled her as well as she could. She was fond 
of this pretty and healthy-minded girl. She even 
envied her purity and the absolute integrity 
which she had been able to preserve in spite of 
her surroundings. 

“ What’s the matter, dear ? Is Suzanne ill ?” 

“Oh, no— no. Worse than that.” 

Amid her tears she related the lamentable and 
grotesque story of the orgie at the artist’s ball 
the night before, the intoxicated girl carried 
round on the students’ backs naked, the complaint 
made the next day to the police, and Suzanne’s 
arrest. “Look,” she said, pointing to a paper 
which spoke of the scandal, “ they speak of all of 
us. My sister, my mother, and even my father!” 
An industrious reporter had ferreted out anec- 
dotes of Suzanne’s and Mathilde’s past career. 

“ But they don’t mention you,” said Maud, who 
was sincerely sorry. 

“ That doesn’t matter. I don’t interest anyone. 
But all my dreams are broken. Poor Paul !” 

She was perfectly sincere. Her greatest grief 
was to think that the man she loved should suffer. 

. Maud tried to console her. “ Paul loves you too 
well to allow himself to be influenced by events 
for which you are not responsible.” 

“No, poor fellow,” she replied with a sad smile. 


246 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


“ I know he won’t love me any the less, but our 
marriage is impossible now. Even if Paul de- 
sired it, I would not give my consent. Just think 
what capital his political enemies would make out 
of it! Oh, no, I could never injure Paul like 
that.” 

“But what do you intend to do?” Maud 
asked. 

“ What can I do ? I shall go back to the rue 
de Berne to live alone, and I shall work.” 

“Oh, come,” said Maud, shrugging her should- 
ers, “of course all this is very annoying, but 
that’s no reason to give up Paul who loves you 
and whom you love. If circumstances over which 
you haven’t the slightest control stand in the w^ay 
of your marriage, it would be very foolish of you 
to let him go. Leave it to time. People forget 
quickly, and the day will come when Paul will 
give up public life. He has told me so many 
times. You can get married then. But until 
then—?” 

Etiennette shook her head obstinately. 

“No. What you say may be very practical. 
The thought that he will marry me when he re- 
signs is the only consolation I have left. But 
until then I will not, no, I cannot be his mistress. 
It may be absurd, foolish, anything you please. 
But I feel that the minute afterwards I should no 
longer love him, and that I should be unhappy.” 

For a moment they were silent. Which of the 
two was right ? They did not know. Their con- 
sciences were confused, obedient simply to the 
impulsion of their respective temperaments. 

“ But my dear, how are you going to live ?” 
asked Maud finally. 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


247 


Etiennette smiled. “I’ll play the guitar in 
drawing rooms. Do you remember last Febru- 
ary when I came to ask you to bring me out ? It’s 
only four months ago,” she added slowly, “and 
yet how much has taken place — how our lives 
are changed !” 

Moved by the recollections conjured by Etien- 
ne tte’s words, they fell into each other’s arms. 
Then perhaps for the first time and under the 
embrace of that pure and healthy tenderness 
which alone remained to her of the past, Maud 
grasped the full meaning of that horrible life, on 
the threshold of which she stood. She clasped 
to her bosom her chaste little friend, who in spite 
of all temptation would remain pure. Their tears 
mingled. 


May 28th, 4 A. M. 

“ I am about to obey you. I am going to kill myself. I 
determined to do so the day that you dismissed me at Cham- 
blais. If I have delayed carrying'out my purpose, it is not 
because I am afraid of death, or because I hoped to soften 
you. But I felt that I must see you — see you once more! 
So I waited for the opportunity afforded by Jacqueline’s wed- 
ding to see you in spite of yourself. 

“ Do not bear rancor in your heart for what I did. I have 
suffered enough to pay for it all ! I shall still be yours at the 
moment when I shall feel the revolver’s cold steel pressing 
against my temple — just as I have belonged to you ever since 
the day I first met you. On the threshold of eternity, I per- 
ceive clearly the truth which was heretofore hidden from me. 
I was not made for the warfare in which you wished me to 
engage. All my earlier instincts, which I thought conquered 
and crushed, came back, seizing me more tenaciously than 
ever. 


248 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


“ I was made to love you with all my heart, faithfully and 
for ever. But you do not want me any more; I stand in your 
way. Well, then pardon me. I leave your road free. I do 
not ask you to regret me or to weep for me; only think of me 
with friendship, later, as a reward of my prompt obedience to 
your last order ! I do not ask you to love me after I am gone. 
I only supplicate you not to efface from your memory that 
you once loved me. You see I am going away quickly, and 
I have suffered so much ! 

“The days when you loved me were for me my whole life. 
Nothing can efface their memory. But when I think that to- 
morrow you will belong to another, that another will look at 
you and touch you, the pain of a pistol bullet in the temple 
is as welcome as sleep. That is why I wish to die and why 
I embrace death ardently, despite my horror of the unknown 
which lays beyond. For I believe in the beyond, Maud. 
In the storms of the past few weeks, faith has come back to 
me, along with my other lost beliefs. We have deceived our- 
selves, we have done wrong, we have acted against our 
consciences. We deserve to be punished. Would that the 
punishment might strike me alone ! 

“ Farewell, dear, cruel, adorable sphinx. I die loving you 
still. The moment that I shall kill myself, I shall think of 
your lips, your eyes, the odor of your hair and I shall die be- 
longing to you, enlaced in your arms. I love you, I love 
you, I love youl ” 


Julien. 


VI. 


The domain of Vezeris stretches from the vil- 
lage of that name to the river Vienne. A 
small branch of the river crosses the park of the 
chateau. The latter, a noble structure in the 
style of Louis XIII was two stories in height and 
surrounded by a spacious courtyard. One enters 
the place through an ancient and moss-covered 
archway. 

Autumn had set in when Paul Le Tessier found 
himself before the gates of Vezeris, whither he 
had gone to ask on his brother’s behalf, the hand 
of little Jeanne de Chantel. Hector himself was 
already there, the second visit he had made since 
the events of the Spring. It was morning when 
Paul reached the chateau, a clear September 
dawn, soon to be flooded with gorgeous sunshine. 
It was harvest time and at every turn of the road 
he met the wagons laden with hay and still drawn 
in the old-fashioned manner, by a pair of yoked 
oxen. 

The senator was received by Mme. de Chantel. 
Under the high gray and white ceilings and sur- 
rounded by the heavy oil portraits of the count- 
249 


250 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


less ancestors of her ancient family, she appeared 
truly at home, with all the singular grace and 
that undefinable air of authority which long aris- 
tocratic descent affords. The family was no longer 
in mourning and both Mme. de Chantel and 
Jeanne appeared in gowns of less sombre color. 
Jeanne’s dresses were made in Paris now, from 
her wish to please Hector, but she was still the 
little unsophisticated country girl whom neither 
Parisian fashions nor manners could spoil. Max- 
ime had changed little outwardly. His hair was 
slightly grayer, but there was something about him 
which made him seem ten years older. Perhaps 
it was the expression in his eyes or the tension of 
his lips, those little undefinable means by which 
we betray our sufferings in spite of ourselves. 

As soon as lunch was over, they went on foot to 
visit the property. Mme. de Chantel stayed at 
home, but Jeanne accompanied the three men. 
Dressed in a brown cloth gown which was closely 
molded to her slim little figure, and one^ of those 
little straw hats which were the fashion that year, 
she started on in advance with Maxime. Paul 
said to his brother : 

“ How she has improved ! Are you attempting 
to make a Parisienne of her ? ” 

“ No,” said Hector smiling, “ I wouldn’t for any- 
thing in the world. She is still the dear little 
white goose who won my heart, with a little 
more art in arranging her plumage and a little 
more passion — that’s all. How are things going 
with you, old man ? ” 

Paul shook his head, disconsolately. “ Nothing 
new. I never met such an obstinate child as Eti- 
ennette. Nothing can move her. I don’t even 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


251 


mention marriage now, for fear she won’t receive 
me. Think of it — I am forty years old and I spend 
an hour or two every day with this little girl who 
seems very fond of me and yet whom I have never 
kissed except upon the cheek and the forehead.” 

“ Suzanne’s escapade has blown over now, hasn’t 
it ? They don’t mention it any more.” 

“The poor girl is done for, I guess. She’s dying 
in the hospital.” 

Hector grasped his brother’s arm affectionately. 
“ Have faith in the future. Everything passes 
away and is forgotten. One day you will thank 
this dear little Etiennette for having resisted you, 
so that your marriage with her might really haye 
some meaning. You know well that I have no 
more respect for our social institutions than you 
have. But while society is re-forming, the wise 
man will reserve for himself a shelter in tradition- 
al morality. It is only the imprudent that leave 
their house without having another to go to.” 

Jeanne and Maxime had reached a, kind of 
wooded hillock and there they rested, waiting for 
their guests. When they had come up she said 
to Hector : 

“ Show all this to Paul. I want him to like my 
country place.” Her eyes, lit up by that incom- 
parable flame of amorous innocence, said at the 
same time to Hector : “But it is your good 
opinion that I long for ! ” 

Maxime pointed out the beauties of the sur- 
rounding country, the wooded slopes in the dis- 
tance, the valley on the right where flowed the 
Vienne on its way to the sea. He spoke with se- 
renity, but without enthusiasm or gayety. He 
never laughed nor even smiled. He never spoke 


252 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


about the past and his attitude imposed silence 
even on the members of his family. Jeanne who 
had started on ahead with Paul Le Tessier, con- 
fessed ingenuously as they walked along that 
neither she nor her mother had dared to interro- 
gate him nor even to make him understand that 
they guessed the cause of his trouble. 

“We left Paris in despair,” she said “Max- 
ime would tell us nothing. He ordered us to re- 
turn to Vezeris and we obeyed him. Oh, it made 
us both very sad ! How could that woman have 
made such a man as Maxime suffer ? He loved 
her so much !” 

After a pause she asked: “Is she married?” 

'“ No,” replied Le Tessier. “ Perhaps she will 
marry one day. She is absent from Paris just 
now and no longer belongs to society. You 
mustn’t speak of her any more.” 

“Ah,” said Jeanne, without blushing, for she 
had not quite understood. Yet, after reflecting a 
few moments, she added: “Poor woman! ” 

They had reached the village of Azay. It was 
the hour of the midday interval, and the harves- 
ters, men and women, were resting from their 
labor. They were coming from the fields in joy- 
ous bands, the crimson of the vine on their lips, 
and in that peculiar state of hilarity in which the 
gathering of the grape puts the peasants. 

Maxime related the history of the spot. 

“ These big stones are all that remain of the old 
chateau. The legend relates that a thousand men 
were burned with the donjon. You see grass and 
vegetables are growing now amid the ruins. 
Even the earth around here is richer perhaps, on 


THE DEMI-VIRGINS. 


253 


account of the frightful carnage which has fertil- 
ized it.” 

A very old peasant passed at that moment, his 
back bent low by years of labor at the plow, and 
his face almost black with sunburn. Maxime 
called him. 

“ Isn’t it true, pere Laurent, that the earth is 
rich round the old chateau ? ” 

“ Ay, ay, Monsieur le Comte,” the old man re- 
plied. “ It’s rich because of the great fight there 
■was here once afore the Revolution. ” 

He cast an envious eye upon this earth so rich 
and fruitful, fertilized by human blood. The 
broad stretch of country which had been the 
theatre of these legendary slaughters was again 
at peace. It had returned to the service of na- 
ture, and with each recurring year gave forth its 
measure of wheat, of golden corn and the prod- 
uct of the purple vine. 

Jeanne, warmed by the brilliant sun and forget- 
ful, in the egotism of her own happiness, of the 
sorrow of the brother she loved, and of the tragic 
mystery of her native place, looked up and smiled. 

Paul and Hector looked at Maxime. He had 
ceased speaking and stood, isolated, as in a dream. 
They guessed what his thoughts were, and at the 
moment their hearts beat fraternally with his. 
Why cannot new life and new hope, like vegeta- 
tion on a re-fertilized soil, blossom on a devastated 
human heart? 


La Roche, 1893-1894. 













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